Transcendence
by Indoctrinated
Summary: There is only one thing that lasts longer than time, only one thing that lasts until forever, only one thing that lasts beyond the world of forever, because even forever has an end. TenRose. Post Doomsday.
1. Prologue: To Begin Before a Beginning

A/N: This is for everyone who knows that there is nothing in this world that is impossible.

* * *

There is only one thing that lasts longer than time, only one thing that lasts until forever, only one thing that lasts beyond the world of forever, because even forever has an end. Time has its beginning and its end. Space shares that limitation as well. But this entity, this one great _Truth_, has no beginning. Nothing can end if it never began. And yet it is here. And yet it endures. It spans across the memory of every being of every species that ever lived, and is experienced by those living through it now. It was there. It is here. It is now. _It is._

This eternal entity crosses through the barriers of time and space and logic as if they never existed. It holds all the keys, it has all the maps, it knows the location of every door, and every window, and every gap. It cannot be stopped. It cannot be barricaded, locked, hidden, penned, refused, ignored, and most importantly, this entity cannot be denied. Its existence defines existence in itself. The universe, and what lies beyond the universe, would not be here but for this entity.

It does not abide by the rules of space and time because it lives above the constraints of the universe; it is beyond any comprehension or understanding of even the most intelligent species. No one knows how. No one knows why. No one knows where it came from or where it began. It was there before time, and it will be there after. It began before there ever was such a thing as beginning, and it will be there after the end. All that is known is that it is here, it has _always_ been here, and that it will endure.

This entity knows no bounds. It knows nowhere it cannot go, nowhere it cannot see. It does not know the definition of impossible; it is the opposite of impossible. It is the antonym, the antagonist, the fear of impossible.

Most species do not realize what this one great Truth actually is, and how it guides and shapes and creates the universe. They do not recognize the awesome power given to this entity. Although, however powerful it might be, it cannot be harnessed. That is because it is shared by every being of every species, whoever died or lived or is living for even the shortest amount of time. That kind of power is infinite, it is unending, it is unresting.

It defies definition in any language of the universe. No being of any species ever created can give this entity its one true name. It is called an infinite number of names. Each civilization has had a name for this singular, superior entity. Most cannot be written; far more have been lost or forgotten. But on the small planet of Earth, the third planet from the Sun in the Solar System, there is a very small, very simple, but amazingly accurate four-letter word for this entity.

Love.

This is not a full, complete definition. But it is so very close. This entity makes the possible, possible. And the so-called impossible, possible. It shares meaning with miracle and marvel, beautiful and perfect, and so many more that there are not yet words for.

The only other thing that is known about this entity - a proven, undeniable fact - is that it is linked to the very soul of every being. In that knowledge lies the root of its power, perhaps not the source, but the core meaning of its existence. It is there so that life might go on, and in every life ever lived - and that will come to live - there is love. And also within that fact resides the reason why it cannot be destroyed. Its opposite - known by the various names of the impossible, the wrong, the evil - shares no such link. It is _powerless_ against the entity known on Earth as love. It has no defenses or counterattacks when placed face-to-face with such a pure, unadulterated force.

Without love the universe would fall into such an ink-black darkness that even the word 'light' would fade from existence, and be remembered only as a fond memory. That is why there are miracles, and that is why the impossible can be defied. It has happened before, it will happen again. And it will continue to do so until…there is no word for beyond forever. All that must be known is that it will go on and on and on, and keep going.

This story is here because with enough love, all things are possible. With enough love, the impossible can be achieved. With enough love, the laws of the universe can be ignored as if they never existed so that new bridges might be forged between this universe and the next. Love is stronger than the impossible, and this story is here to show you how, to tell you how, and to prove the infinite power of Love.


	2. The Bridges Were Burned

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it means a lot to me. I guess everyone who's written on here knows what it means when someone takes the time to read and then comment on your work – good or bad responses, it really doesn't matter. The time and effort contributed to the response prove that it's worth commenting on. So, thanks again for your time. It'll probably be a few days before I get chapter 2 up, so be patient and I'll do my best not to disappoint.

* * *

After the countless, sleepless hours spent scouring his universe for even the slightest gap, the smallest window into Rose's world, their goodbye was cut short. Three words lingered on the tip of the Doctor's tongue, and just as his mouth was forming the first, he sharply bit them back. An acute stinging sensation behind his eyes began to form tears that barely registered in his numbed brain as it struggled to fully comprehend what happened.

Rose was gone. _Gone_. Forever. She was permanently, irreversibly, undeniably gone. And it was absolutely nothing like Sarah Jane Smith, with whom he could just type in the coordinates for Earth and be there in a few minutes for a visit. This was far, far different. He could never see her again. The gates were shut. The doors were locked. The windows barred, the gaps sewn up, the patches mended, the bridges burned, the holes re-filled, the breaches stitched together, the fissures sealed.

_This_ was his world now. A world without Rose, who was technically neither dead nor alive, because the Rose born to this Earth now lived in a parallel universe. A universe in which he could never live in or see. He heaved in mighty breath, and then blew it out. His long fingered hands scrubbed his face clean of tears, trying – but failing – to wash all this unwanted misery away as well.

He never asked to fall in love. He never asked to becoming so intimately intertwined with a 19-year-old shop girl who practically had him wrapped around her pinky finger, and with just one flash of that coy smile so perfectly delivered, she could set both his hearts to hammering away at lightspeed. He fell unthinkingly, unwittingly, and he fell so very, very hard. In fact, it never truly occurred to him how deeply he was interconnected with Rose until the moment he lost her, that moment in Torchwood Tower when her fingers slipped from the handle and she began to tumble towards the Void.

When he lost Rose, she took one of his hearts with her. He could put a hand on either side of his chest and still feel the steady thump of each under his fingertips, but in his mind he knew that one was gone. Half of him felt completely hollow, like he was missing a vital part of himself. That vital part was Rose Tyler, and he had a hunch that he would never feel complete again. Not even after his three remaining regenerations. There would always be a part missing, he would never be whole again.

He squeezed his eyes shut behind the wall made by his hands, desperately trying to force those thoughts out of his mind. He didn't want to think, he wanted to be numb. It was not as hard as he expected. For a long while now he had gotten used to socking everything away – the loss of Gallifrey, the loss of his friends, the loss of his family, and now compounded by the loss of Rose – into a neat little package that he stored away in the back of his mind, locked behind a steel door and sealed tightly with a shot from his sonic screwdriver.

With a final resigned sigh, he ambled over to the TARDIS's main control console, absently flicking switches, adjusting levers, glancing blankly at various readouts, not planning on going anywhere in particular because he no longer had bright eyed, infinitely curious Rose asking where they were off to next.

And just when he thought nothing else could go wrong, nothing else could get anymore strange and disorienting, he walked around the other side of the control console only to see a woman dressed in a white wedding gown standing on the deck. He was so shocked that all of his previous thoughts were jostled out of place and shoved into the back of his mind.

Anger boiled up inside him now, eyes going wide with a foreign mix of fury and confusion. It was absurd. It was so oddly, infuriatingly _absurd_. Why now? Why him? Couldn't the universe give him more than just a moment or two to grieve for Rose? He wasn't a super human. Yes, he would go on to live for thousands of years, and to the average human that's just as good as being immortal considering they're lucky to hit the century mark. But beside that point, even a Time Lord, even the _last_ of the Time Lords, could handle only so much in one day.

After just a moment's worth of processing, his brain spat forth a response to this surprise without thinking about it at all. "What?" The bride replied with a sharply drawn in breath.

His brain trapped himself in a groove as his lips moved and his vocal chords created the word, "What?" once more without conscious thought. The bride said something, he saw her lips move, but he did not hear the words. "What?" And there it was again, like a broken record.

She scowled and said something again. She made no sound that he could decipher. "What!"

The bride stamped her foot and marched up to him, poking him firmly in the chest. She spoke again, and this time, a few words filtered through. "What in...God's…this place…I want…go home…Have a _bloody wedding_…Roger is probably worried to death…Take me home _now_."

After that, the Doctor didn't remember much. He supposed he asked her the last date and place she remembered because he found himself at the controls, flipping levers, twisting dials, entering coordinates into the TARDIS's navigation system. A few fuzzy moments later, the Doctor figured he must have offered the Bride – whom he now knew for some mysterious reason as Colleen – a cup of tea, because now he was in the kitchen, pulling mugs from the cupboard, putting on a kettle of water. It was only after the water was finished and poured, the tea steeped with milk and sugar added, that Colleen asked why he had made three cups of tea when there was only two of them.

The Doctor supposed that he made some vague, dismissive excuse because the last thing he recalls for a long time is standing in the doorway of the TARDIS, watching Colleen, a wife-to-be, hustling across a green lawn to where white chairs were lined up row-by-row, filled with smiling people in fine attire. He did not bother to find out why this woman had appeared in the TARDIS, for he no longer cared to ask that question. The answer to all of his 'whys?' no longer held meaning, because the most important why was left unanswered. Why Rose? Why now? Why her? Why me? Why, why, why!

The Doctor turned back into the silent TARDIS, slumped into a chair, and stared blankly at a wall. He would have expected that he would think about something, but he was wrong. He thought about nothing, he was nothing. Slowly, as his eyelids became heavy with leaden weights, as his muscles finally started to relax, and as his head slowly began to droop southwards until his chin rested on his chest, the Doctor began to fall asleep for the first time in what seemed to be a lifetime.

So, in a chair aboard the TARDIS, coat tucked snugly around him, the Doctor slept restlessly. And in his sleep, the Doctor _dreamed_.

* * *

Now, the Universe of Dreams is an odd place, situated somewhere between Here and There, this world and the Next, located slightly to the left of the Void and just under the Beyond, home to Morpheus and Hypnos. In this universe, dreams exist as vividly colored bubbles of thoughts and wishes, where the rulers of this universe can step from one dream to the next.

As a rule, these dreams remain separate, none touching or colliding. If that were to happen, each occupant of the dream would find themselves in a combined dream of the two and both occupants would share the same dream. This does not often happen by accident, and a very few times on purpose in which two people could be brought together when it could not happen in reality.

Now as rulers of their universe, Morpheus and Hypnos answered to only one greater power, the entity that is longer than time itself. And on this particular visit, the entity had a favor to ask of the father and son. That two dreams might be combined, and that it might be done anytime these two particular beings might fall into the throes of sleep and dream once more.

Morpheus and Hypnos were happy to comply with the request, but only wished to know who these two beings were that needed so desperately to be brought together. The entity answered very cryptically. It replied that they were the Oncoming Storm and the Bad Wolf, the Healer and the Calm After the Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds and the Builder of Civilizations, they were Love and they were Compassion. They were the culmination of a great many things. They were The Doctor and The Rose. Morpheus and Hypnos did not press any further, because they knew that this answer was all they would ever get from the entity and it surely had its reasons for not revealing the information.

And so when the entity left, Morpheus and Hypnos began their search for The Doctor and The Rose. It was Hypnos who found The Doctor, dreaming restlessly within his sphere of pure white, a softly glowing radiance emanating from the bubble.

Then Morpheus discovered The Rose's dream just as it entered from beyond the Void, a delicate shade of pink the color of a rose in full bloom illuminating the darkness around it. The bubble gave off a youthful, exuberant vibe.

The separate dreams were combined, and when forced together, created such a blinding, brilliant light, that neither Morpheus nor his father Hypnos could see what the dream contained. And so it was left in a room of the Palace of Dreams, the brilliant light creating a beacon for two lost souls within a world that does not lay in any chart or map of the universes, except for one.

* * *

Rose awoke from a most peculiar dream. In it, she was standing in a meadow, the grass green and sweet smelling below her feet, the sky above the richest shade of light blue. Almost beyond the line of sight, rows upon rows of tall, majestic trees swayed softly in a light breeze. All around her life thrived and bloomed. The sun shone down on her face, and for the first time in a very long time, Rose felt happy. But 'happy' didn't do the emotion she felt singing through her veins justice. She was enthusiastic, excited, ecstatic even. She felt as though she might explode with this delicious expectation that something amazing was about to happen.

The change came slowly at first. It began as a single tremor beneath her feet. And then another, and another. Soon, the ground began to shake and tremble, an earthquake-like effect making the meadow shudder and quake as if the ground might split open under her and swallow her whole. Spines of rock thrusted up from fissures in the dirt even as the soil changed from dark and moist to dry and thin; gaps yawned open as entire acres of the forest surrounding the meadow were swallowed up into a black abyss. The sky grew grey and stormy, a heavy mist descending from beyond the line of sight, gathering speed as it rolled in. A distant roar reverberated through the scenery, a pounding so rhythmic that a metronome could be set to the beat sounded in the distance.

But then the shaking stopped, the roar dulled into white noise, and the gaping maws in the earth closed. Rose stood trembling in the middle of all this, arms crossed tightly around her. That odd euphoric feeling still lingered, however, and deep inside, Rose knew that amazing thing she had been waiting for was only moments from occurring. She looked around, but no familiar objects or shapes leant hints to where she had been transported.

From behind her, a soft voice spoke. A low and slightly hesitant tone that could be mistaken for no other, a voice her ears had been waiting to hear for a lifetime. "_Rose_."

He was _here_. He found her. She spun around to face him, and there he was, twenty feet away, standing tall. That familiar manic grin plastered on his face. He slipped his hands out of his trouser pockets, and held his arms open wide, beckoning her towards him. She ran, no, _sprinted_, towards him, a blossoming grin growing on her face as she laughed freely, sand spraying up in clouds behind her pounding feet. Tears blurred her vision as she threw herself into his waiting embrace.

And a moment later she was wrapped up snugly in his arms, his comfortable, familiar scent that was uniquely the Doctor pulled her in tight and permeated her senses. It reminded her of everything they used to be; companions, friends, mates…lovers. That last description called upon a different definition however, because the Doctor and Rose were lovers of the heart and soul, not in the physical sense. They fed off of each other's strengths, and supported each one another during faults. They were rocks among pebbles, mountains among hills, shelters during a storm.

With a heavy sigh, she settled into his embrace, head tucked under his chin, hands grasping fistfuls of his jacket as if she was about to be torn away. Rose Tyler felt whole again, like a missing limb was now replaced, and she would have given every limb in her possession to feel like this for the rest of her life.

She found herself repeating one sentence over and over and over again, like a broken record because she could find no other words to describe the intense euphoria that now sang through her blood. "You found me."

He pulled back just far enough so that he could see her face, and she promptly lost herself in the infinite depths of his hazel eyes. His voice sounded so far away when it finally reached her ears. "Quite right, I did."

She gave a strangled laugh, choking on the tears she fought so valiantly to hold back. "And about damn time, too!" His warm breath panted against her cheek as she felt him laugh.

She crushed his body against hers, trying to absorb all his warmth and comfort and memory, because she knew that he would leave again. And she would be left alone with nothing but memories.

It was often said that it is less painful when you don't remember anything to hurt about. Rose, for one, didn't want to forget. She wanted to remember him forever, his smell, his eyes, his embrace, his laugh, his smile…his everything. She wanted to save every one of those memories and hold them close to her heart. Each image of him was more precious than her weight in gold a million times over, each remembrance worth all the riches the universe could offer.

And suddenly, the one thing Rose Tyler dreaded most began to happen. Her head tilted upwards, looking to meet his eyes again so that more memories of his soft gaze might be saved and stored away for safekeeping. But his visage was already to beginning to fade away as his form flickered irregularly. He stepped away and his gaze dropped to the sand beneath their feet. She reached out to touch him again, but this time, an invisible barrier kept her from reaching him.

A breath was expelled forcefully from her lungs. "No."

Her determined denial brought his gaze up to meet hers. His lips moved but she could not hear his words.

"No." She slammed a fist against the barrier. "_No!_" She raged and threw her weight against the invisible wall, pummeling it with hands and feet, sobs wracking her entire body in one long, continuous shiver. She shouted and cried his name until her throat was raw, she kicked and flailed at the barrier until her muscles could move no more, she cried until she had no more tears to give. Eventually, defeated, she sank against the wall, her forehead and one hand splayed flat against the dense air that separated them.

All the while, the Doctor stood and looked on with a mask of such profound sorrow lining his face that his eyes became darkened by the emotion. He shifted his weight slightly, and leaned against the wall, mirroring her stance so perfectly that they became images of one another. Rose looked up again; daring to meet the eyes of his almost completely faded form one last time. This time, when his lips moved, the message couldn't have been anymore clear. "Rose Tyler, I love you."

And with that, he faded into nothingness, leaving Rose standing on that beach - just like last time, just like everytime – with nothing but memories and feelings to keep her company. But this time, she was not left with a feeling of depression. In fact, she felt light, optimistic even. Something good would happen, sometime, eventually. She would be patient. Her love for him was so deep and pure and true that there was nothing she wouldn't give to be able to touch him one last time, or even just to feel him close to her again.

As Rose Tyler floated out of the Universe of Dreams and returned to the land of the conscious, one whispered word followed her out of slumber. With that one word, she found the strength to get up that morning and get through the day. And then used it to get through the day after that. And every day that would follow for the rest of that year. Just one word did all that.

"_Hope._"


	3. Strength in Faith

A/N: A little later than I expected to be finished with it, sorry. The next chapter might be even a later than this as it will be a transition chapter between what is now posted of this story, and the last chapter (not counting epilogue). It might be kind of hard to work out because I actually wrote the last chapter first, so I'm working backwards and then forwards again. Thanks again to all you reviewers, it makes my day to check my email and see those messages in my inbox.

* * *

Upon returning to wakefulness from yet another dream, the Doctor found himself tucked away into a far corner of the TARDIS, knees cramped painfully in the small space, his large coat swallowing his body whole in its warm, familiar embrace. He sighed heavily and tipped his head backwards until it rested against a cold metal panel. His face was that of a book filled with inkless pages; one could see the uncountable chapters written in the lines of his face, but there were no words that could be read. His eyelids began to drift downward again, and it almost seemed as if he was ready to fall back asleep, but then he crammed the heels of his hands into his face. Stars of brilliant colors exploded behind his eyes as violently as stiff muscles protested when he levered himself up and leaned unsteadily on an ancient support strut.

And yet he wore a smile. It was not the expression of a man whose life is complete nor was it the sardonic smirk of a bitter man. It was not an excited, elated or ecstatic smile. It was not even the manic grin he always seemed to have playing about his lips. It was the secret smile of a man who has lost so much, but still holds hope for something - just one thing - that is still dear to him.

It was in that rare flash of fire in his eyes, the slight quirk of his lips, the almost non-existent crinkles around his eyes that gave it away. It was in the way he held himself; slightly stooped under the burden he was forced to bear, and yet he bore it with square shoulders and head held high. It was in his speech; evenly measured but clung to threads of a carefree lightness. It was in his walk; carefully measured but still retained the floating quality of a light-footed man that all the time in the world but nothing he wishes to do with it.

It was in every breath he took, in every movement he made, and every word that he spoke. It was in his heart, in his mind, and – most importantly – that remaining fragment of hope was in his dreams.

If the Doctor had to single out one thing, just one, that kept him alive and gave him the will to keep going for the past year was the dreams. The dreams that came each night, without fail, that gave him strength to continue carrying his great burden. The dreams that seemed so alive, as if he were recalling memories from a past life, that were so tangible he could actually _hear_ the soft cadence of her laughter, he could _feel_ the gentle stroke of her fingers against his skin.

Even the way she would respond to his actions seemed real. They didn't feel like the programmed responses of a mind sick with sorrow and loss. The content of the dreams themselves would not be a product of a heart so ruined by a confrontation with the impossible. Many of them were scenes he might have shared with Rose, had they not been ripped apart, others were alternate possibilities of things that might have come to pass if just one word – one action, one thought, one look – were changed and therefore modified the future that was to come.

He remembered the first dream as if it had lived it yesterday. Watching her appear on the beach gave him an ironic sense of déjà vu: in many ways it was similar to the way he had arrived in Bad Wolf Bay. He marveled at her beauty as he drew her in close and the perfection in which she fit into his arms. His hearts ached at the sight of her tears, mourned at the sight of her futile raging, and, finally, discovered that remaining fragment of hope left inside him when he finally let those three words slip past his lips. He told her he loved her. He meant it, he means it still.

Tonight's smile was brought on by one of the - compared to some of the others - more senseless dreams, but ones he enjoyed nevertheless, because when it truly came down to it, nothing with Rose seemed pointless now. It was simply him and her, together. They sat on a park bench while leaves in all colors of the fall spectrum drifted gently down from the strong branches of their parents, and shared a jar of marmalade. They laughed, they smiled, they fed each other mouthfuls of the sticky substance, they commented lightly on – through what sort of mindless boredom - they came to arrive at this situation. But they did not talk about the stars, or the TARDIS, or time travel, or Mickey, or Jackie, or life or death or love or loss.

They talked about fun as if evil did not exist, about nothing as if something were not real, about beginnings as if there were no such things as ends. They laughed as if there was no crying, smiled as if there were no frowns, and talked as if there was no silence. He was not ignorant of their situation, he simply chose to escape the reality of it for a while, and it just so happened that he found his solace in dreams of her.

The TARDIS interrupted his solitary musings as she gently brushed his mind. He patted the support strut fondly and his smile morphed to a wistful quirk of lips. "Where to? you ask…I don't know, old girl. Haven't known anywhere I want to go for a long time." He sighed again, pushing away from the familiar walls of his ship. His eyes drew themselves first left, then right, down either end of the corridor. He wasn't sure which way he felt like going. He decided not to choose, and instead let his feet lead him where they may.

In the aftermath of Torchwood, the TARDIS registered the depth of the Doctor's loss and rearranged her corridors accordingly. Before, Rose's room was only a few steps away from the Doctor's, just down the hall from the kitchen and library, as well as directly adjacent to the control room. When Rose first joined him in his home, he could not have helped but grin at what the TARDIS had done. She had directly arranged Rose's life into his, squarely depositing her in the middle of all the rooms he used most. Now Rose's room was squandered off in some unused corridor – though the TARDIS hadn't the heart to change a single possession or color. She had grown fond of Rose, though her stay here was briefer than that of a leaf drifting from the strong branch of a tree to land softly on the cold ground. The room was identical to the way Rose had left it. And, as the Doctor suddenly found himself standing in front of the achingly familiar door, his hand frozen on the handle, that it was the way she had left it exactly one year ago today. His eyes shuttered closed as he twisted the handle and let the door swing open.

He was petrified to open his eyes and find out the last material remains of her would be gone. But even more than that, he was terrified that he would allow his gaze to rest on her possessions, and find that he could still take a breath. That would be the final lock on the chest that carried his memories of her, it would be proof that he could – in fact – live without her.

And so he opened them, with an agonizing slowness, determined to conquer this fear. He was not sure what to feel. One half felt extraordinary relief; the other felt a twisting, excruciating heartache that was so unbearable it did not have a name. He stood frozen in the doorway, hands hanging limply by his sides, lips fastened in a tight, bloodless line. Memories flashed past his eyes so fast that he could not register each one, and a sickening explosion erupted in the pit of his stomach. But it did not last, and after a moment, the pain subsided and the Doctor inhaled deeply. It had passed.

He stepped forward into the room, a wince prepared on his face. No more pain came, and though the memories of suffering and loss threw themselves against the steel door, the lock held and the barrier remained erect. What could have been a ghost of a smile passed over his lips, and he reached out to touch a pillow that her head had once lain upon.

And that's when he noticed it - a thin line of golden silk that lay flat against the face of the pillow, its lustrous shine caught in the hazy lighting of the TARDIS. His fingers gently brushed over the strand before it was carefully lifted off the cushion, the gravity with which he handled it suggested that it might have been made of the most precious substance in the entire universe, and that it would shatter if carried any other way.

It was a single hair, preserved with such meticulousness that it could have fallen off her head only moments ago. When the TARDIS chose to save her room as she had left it, not a single detail was left out. The dog-eared book on the sidetable was the novel she had been engrossed in the night before, the hairbrush on the vanity she used only moments before leaving to meet him at the breakfast table the following morning, the clothes in the laundry hamper worn only days ago. The TARDIS had literally frozen time inside the room, so it was as if the Doctor was taking a step back into her past.

With a soft smile, he carefully folded the hair in between a piece of paper he found on the desk, then storing the now protected hair in his breast pocket. He addressed his ship, "I've changed my mind. I know where we should go now, it's time we visited Rose." The TARDIS knew what he meant, and set her course accordingly. A low hum of agreement echoed throughout the empty corridors as the ship silently reset its direction, rocketing the spinning blue box through time and space.

The Doctor stood amidst Rose's possessions, a contented sort of look gracing his features. For the first time in over a year, he was at peace. After a moment, he reached down to pick up the well-thumbed book, flicking the pages open the part where the spine was far more creased than any other section of the novel. The page that he opened to had four lines deeply underscored by a black ink pen. Glasses now perched on his nose, he read aloud – in a soft, steady cadence - to no one but himself and his ship, "_And neither angels in heaven above, nor demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabel Lee._"

And it was only after another moment he found himself perched eagerly on the edge of her bed, riffling through the pages of the book, searching fervently for other highlighted passages and stanzas. As the TARDIS dove through time and space, the Doctor dove through the favored poems and stories of Rose Tyler.

* * *

Time heals all, it is often said. It can mend wounds, repair breaks, and soothe hurts. But Rose Tyler had a pain that not even eternity of time could cure. There was only one balm that could ease the pain that was rooted deep into her heart, and that was the touch of the man she loved, the only man she could ever love. She needed a doctor, she needed _the_ Doctor.

And as Rose sat behind her desk in her Torchwood, pen absently tapping a pile of reports that should have been sent in hours ago, she could not deny the wry grin that split her lips as that thought occurred to her. Before, when the wound was still fresh, thoughts of the Doctor were unbearable beyond comprehension. She would sit for days staring out the window, looking for any sign of a battered old Police Box, ears keen as they listened for the telltale hum of the TARDIS. It never came. And yet she waited.

Her resolve held out for nearly six months. Slowly, after that, the pain began to ease away, and Rose found now that thinking of the Doctor was one of the few things that could bring a smile to her face. Though she had stopped spending every precious second searching for indications that the Doctor was coming, Rose never stopped hoping. Her and the Doctor had managed to slip out of impossible situations before, so it never occurred to her why would this time be any different.

Rose's faith was held in the power of the Doctor, not the power of the Impossible. And that is why her hope remained. Had she begun to doubt that he would find her, the faith that kept her alive would begin to wane, and Rose would have found herself sinking into a black abyss, where the way is blocked and the true path hidden from view.

The dreams that came each only served to strengthen her trust in that the Doctor would find his way back to her someday. His comforting presence each night gave her strength to continue on the next day, and to live the life he would have wanted her to live. She never stopped waiting for him, and though her eyes weren't always on the stars, she had now found a better place to let her gaze rest – on the horizon. Each new day brought more hope that the Doctor still might find a way, and in her heart, Rose knew that the rest of her life – no matter what else she might give up – she would never forfeit her faith in the Doctor.

And so as she began to wander down Memory Lane once more, following the well placed, unmistakable signs that lead to the Doctor, a familiar hand descended on to her shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze. Startled out of her daydream, Rose looked up, and saw the Mickey standing there with a forced half-smile on his face.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly, a cautious tone in his voice.

She smiled right back. "Yeah…why'd you ask?"

He gave a shrug in response, but his hand never left her shoulder. "Oh, I dunno. Just seems like today out of all days you might not be doin' so well."

"What're you talki-" she began, her voice cutting off short as her mind caught up to Mickey's words. How had she not realized it before? Today, exactly one year ago, she had stood at a wall in this very building with tears carving passageways down her cheeks in warm trickles, pounding in vain at the wall and begging for the Doctor to return. And then only moments after that, she was pressed up against the wall, trying as she might to push herself through it, because she could _feel_ the Doctor on the other side.

She sighed and raised her hand to cover Mickey's, returning the brief squeeze. "I'm not sure about right now, but I know I'll be fine soon enough. Don't you worry about me, Mickey. I'll get through it."

That answer seemed to satisfy him, for he nodded once and then turned away. He probably called something back to her about seeing her back at her parents' house for dinner tonight, and she most likely gave him a suitable answer because he didn't return.

So now she was left alone with a several files that were hours late, a practical free reign of Torchwood, and a memory that weighed heavily on her mind. She stood up and threw the pen back on the desk. Her security clearance ID badge now pinned on her blouse, she began to mount the long, circular stairway that lead skywards to Torchwood Tower. Long ago had these halls ceased to be strange to her. Once those first six months of aching torture had passed, Rose sought a distraction to bury herself within. Surprisingly, she found it in work. Whether it was fate, or simply coincidence, something drew Rose to apply for a job at Torchwood. Though she had not a resume of glowing recommendations, nor were her grades counted among those in the higher levels from the part of high school she did finish; it was her intimate knowledge of alien species and behavior that made her invaluable to the Institute. Predictably, Mickey followed only by days to get his application accepted as well. And though his time on the TARDIS was shorter than Rose's, his limited knowledge - when compared to hers - far surpassed more than the majority of those who worked at Torchwood, making him just as priceless as Rose in that respect.

She skipped her way through the ranks quicker than Mickey, most likely because of her fierce determination and eagerness to bury herself away from the world. Only weeks ago she finally landed a promotion as head of Alien Intelligence and Reconnaissance, a position mere steps under the Director. The number of people answering to her had doubled, the amount of paperwork tripled – much to Rose's dismay – but now she had been granted the highest level of security clearance. Now there was no room or hallway or corridor closed off to Rose Tyler. Heels now clicking with a familiar rhythm as she mounted the steps drew forth a line from one of her favorite poems, one she had held onto dearly for the last year.

'_And neither angels in heaven above, nor demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabel Lee._'

If only this had been true for her and the Doctor, if only their bond had been so strong that it could never be severed. It might have once been, but now was time she put a matter to rest. Though however long this year might have been, Rose never gave up her hope. She never would. But tonight, she would visit the Doctor one last time, and perhaps it would give her the last push of faith she needed to continue with her life. That kind of reassurance was one that only the Doctor could give, so it was conceivable that it could be found in what so very little remained of her connection to him.

* * *

And all this while, the eternal entity watched the two souls, waiting for just the right moment. It was clearly obvious that Rose was the stronger in her blind faith. The Doctor had far too much experience with the Universe to believe so deeply without proof or reason. Its decision was made, its time had come. 


	4. The Key to Freedom

A/N: After this chapter I have two or three more, plus an epilogue, planned. I was thinking about posting this chapter and the next one as a single chapter, but then I realized today that I haven't posted for nearly a week, and since I'm still a ways from finishing the other chapter, I decided to post them separately. These two will be shorter than the others for that reason. Ok, enough rambling, time for the story. Enjoy!

* * *

It was as if time had been frozen within this achingly familiar room of Torchwood Tower. Computers, desks, and keyboards all lay where they had been left exactly one year ago; even dust had not been able to penetrate the power that protected this room from the ravages of time. The only plausible explanation the Doctor could conceive of was that some residual power from the breach that once opened into the Void was trapped in this world. The power, however, was obviously not great enough to affect anything beyond this room, and not strong enough to be picked up by the Torchwood Institute's sensors from their new location a few miles away.

In the aftermath of Cybermen and Dalek invasion, all Torchwood personnel had evacuated this Tower and it was cordoned off by the government soon after. The public was told that this building held highly sensitive material dealing with the invasion; had they been told that a secret installation working below the radar of public knowledge had all but invited the Cybermen into their world would have thrown the entire planet into an uproar. Day and night, guards watched this building and security cameras covered every hallway and room. A year's worth of dust must not be a noticeable amount – either that or every guard in Torchwood was blind – because though cameras covered this room, the difference had not been discovered.

The Doctor had set a loop into the nearest cameras, so his presence would never be recorded. The TARDIS had sent him back to Torchwood Tower on the anniversary of their separation; exactly one year of Earth time had passed since they last saw one another in the flesh, since they last touched. And now as he stood a few paces back, feet planted shoulder-width apart and arms folded tightly across his chest, his defiant glare drilled into the infuriatingly blank wall. So much had come to pass in this room. So many painful memories created. And yet that fateful wall bore no scar or mark of any kind that leant even a hint to the tragedy that occurred here.

It was only a few moments before his anger turned inwards, raging at himself instead, when he realized that he did not hold a grudge against a _wall_. He was furious with himself, with his failures, his flaws, his mistakes. It was his own faults that brought about this disaster. He was the last remaining Time Lord. This universe, and its occupants, were his responsibility. And though he had the power to avert this kind of catastrophe, it had not been used. He had failed yet again.

With this realization, he tried to take a stumbling step forward towards the wall as his stance began to crumble. The head once held high in defiance fell, the proudly squared shoulders drooped, the locked knees buckled, and finally, the Doctor slumped against the blank white wall that would be forever burned into his memory. His greatest failure. He had failed to rescue the woman he loved, and within that action, he could have sent her to eternal Hell. Into the Void. Had it not been for the timely entrance of Pete, Rose would have found herself floating through a timeless existence, forever destined to be contained in a world that does not truly exist.

Somehow though, just being near where he last saw Rose gave him a measure of comfort he had not expected to find. What he had come here hoping for was a sense of closure, to be able to stand in front of the door that lead to the part of his life with Rose and be at peace with what he had done; to be forgiven for his sins against the ones he loved. It seemed as if Rose was the summation of everything he had failed to attain, and if he could be forgiven for his failure to keep her safe, then the rest of his debts might be repaid as well.

He shifted to a slightly more comfortable position, knees bent and arms draped loosely in a relaxed position. With a smile, he realized the last time he had sat like this was with Rose. As softly as dreams come at night, the memory came floating out from behind the door, bringing with it a lazy, contented feeling…They sat facing one another, lopsided grins plastered on each of their faces. At their sides sat piles of junk food – chips, Oreos, salsa, peanut butter, chocolate bars, pretzels – and enough empty aluminum cans of soda to build a new control console for the TARDIS. In his hands was a deck of old shabby cards, some with corners torn, others heavily creased down the middle. Rose swore that she hadn't marked the cards in a special way, but the mischievous glint in her eye gave the Doctor some doubts.

Now, with a brief laugh, he recalled that it was a game of slapjack she had challenged him to. And she had whipped him soundly. At first, he did admit, he had held back, gauging her level of proficiency. But after the first game, when her hand snapped out and touched the called for card before he had even time to register what the card looked like pushed the Doctor head-on into his competitive streak. And what had ended in a night of fierce competition, too much junk food, and childish name-calling – the Doctor vividly remembered an exceedingly imaginative insult dreamt up by Rose that included two beavers, a hose, and his mother that could _still_ make him blush – left him now in an abandoned room of Torchwood Tower, chuckling fitfully, his eyes bright with laughter.

It was only then that he realized he was standing in the doorway of his life, memories of Rose drifting past him as leaves fall from trees, their paths unsure of where they'll land but confident in the knowledge that they're going somewhere. And, with a gasp of surprise that stole his breath and his peace in one fell swoop, he realized that the other painful memories had escaped from behind the locked door as well. He made to turn away, to flee from these other failures of his. He couldn't bear the shame of them right now, nor could he weather the storm of pain that would undoubtedly follow. But then one gently brushed against him, and inside his mind images exploded in brilliant Technicolor fireworks of people and places and fire.

It was one from the Time War, a particular painful subject for him to think about. He flinched away, his body instinctively readying itself for the all-consuming agony that was sure to follow. This time was different, this time the pain did not come. He could stand back and watch the memory, and though he still regretted some of the choices he had made, he came to accept that the past was something that he could not change by wallowing in self-pity and submitting himself to undeserved pain in payment for debts that need not be paid. Action was the only way to alter the past, and to try to make a change of that kind of magnitude would rip the fabric of time and space. His past was indeed the past, it could be altered in no way, shape, or form. This realization came slowly, just as all change comes. Except this change came from within himself, though the catalyst had not been an inner discovery. Rose had to become the key to his freedom, allowing him to be at peace with his memories and past actions. She had freed him to live his life. And, if only in memory of Rose, he would live a great life – no, a _fantastic_ life – for her.

He stood. He found what had come looking for. At first he turned towards the TARDIS, hand reaching inside his jacket for the familiar shape of its key, but then – as if it was an afterthought – he came around again to face the wall. His hand had brushed against the piece of paper that protectively ensconced the preserved hair. The Doctor knelt, and reverently placed the paper at the base of the wall, a small tribute to an unforgettable woman. His hand slowly came to rest against the cool surface of the wall, fingers spread-eagled against the plaster, nearly mirroring his position of exactly one year ago. This time around, however, he spoke. "I love you, Rose. I love you so much. Live a fantastic life for me, Rose, and I'll do my best to live one for you." A smile touched his lips. "You deserve a great life because you gave a gift that no one else could. You gave me back my life. Thank you." He pressed his lips to the wall in a kiss he never dreamt would find its way to the one he meant it for.

The Doctor stood one final time, placing his hand back inside his trouser pocket, and turned back to his ship, that same secretive smile spreading his lips and climbing into his eyes.


	5. The Bridges Were Rebuilt

A/N: Ah, just so no one's confused, my story does _not_ include the Bad Wolf or the Face of Boe. It might sound like one of those two (or both) are involved. I just wanted you to be clear that it doesn't. Other than that, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for taking so long between posting dates, school is hectic and finals are coming up in less than a month so all the teachers are having nervous breakdowns right now.

* * *

The entire trip up the stairs, Rose had been mentally steeling herself for this moment. She knew what to expect, a blank white wall. A blank white wall that stirred so many deeply-rooted emotions that her chest ached with longing. If it was the last thing she ever did in this world, she wanted see his gently smiling face one more time, to feel the strong line of his jaw under her palm, to find the familiar illusion of safety she had discovered in his arms once more.

But, now, standing in the doorway that was only mere feet from that ominous wall, Rose found that she could not breathe. The torrent of emotions and memories that returned with proximity to this fateful place left a constricted feeling in her chest, and a heavy ache in her heart. She took a few halting steps forward, one hand tightly gripping the material of her shirt, the other grasping the empty air in front of her. In only a few moments, her fingertips were grazing the surface of the wall. She spent only a second soaking in its texture before she sank against it, forehead resting on the wall with a hand placed on either side, her entire body sagging toward the barrier. There wasn't an ounce of fight left in her. It was final, it was certain; her life would never be the same again.

Once in a lifetime, a person will come along and change our lives forever. That person will never be forgotten, not even as we lay dying. For Rose Tyler, the Doctor was that person. He was her missing half, her one true love, her soul mate. He completed her, just as entirely as she completed him. But, together, Rose and the Doctor were far more than just soul mates. They were a unifying force, a universal symbol of all Love.

And so that's why Rose began to feel a slight tingle in her fingers, not unlike what she felt when she was slightly tipsy. The tingle lingered in her fingertips, almost as if it was testing her reaction before crawling its way up her arms. The logical part of her brain insisted that there was something very strange and alien about this, but its counterpart – the gut-instinct half – maintained that there was something _right_ about this unusual presence in her body. It felt…destined. Like this what was meant to happen, and all things happen for a reason. Soon the tingling sensation spread from the roots of her hair at the very top of her head to the tips of her toes. The intensity of the tingling began to increase, as did the glow that was beginning to emanate from her skin. She was sheathed in a soft golden aura, a delicate shimmering rain that hovered millimeters off her skin. She waved her hand back and forth in front of her eyes, a small gasp stealing out of her throat as she watched the path of the ethereal aura. When her fingers tried to grasp elusive particles, they simply slipped from between grip. A suggestion entered her mind that did not seem to come from her own thoughts, but Rose was far too entranced by this strange aura to notice. _"It wasn't meant to be caged. It is free. Freer than you or me or this entire universe."_

Slowly, the tingling became a rippling, like she could feel each independent muscle and tendon working furiously beneath her skin. She flexed her hands, and sent shockwaves of power echoing through her body. She didn't understand how or why, but she knew that she had been given this amazing power, and that it was hers to wield. Her eyes shuttered closed as she touched a finger to the wall once more, and then closer, her cheek pressed to the wall, tentatively feeling out with her mind. Around her, the world began to dissolve into nothingness as she immersed herself deeper within this ethereal power. Another entity took this power by the reins, jerking them from her hands, and sent her spiraling into oblivion.

Rose saw everything within that moment. She saw the face of her mother, a soft – if not resigned - smile touching her lips; the gentle face of her father that was not quite her father; her young brother Ben, only 5 months old but already charming enough to coax a smile from even the bleakest, most hopeless person; the face of Mickey, her best friend, the only other living soul in this universe that could even remotely understand what traveling the Doctor was like. She saw everything that once was, everything that might have been, and everything that might still come to be. She saw a million different possibilities in a single instant. She saw her life, her death, and every person she had met throughout her journey in an infinite number ways. And, at long last, she saw the Doctor kneeling in front of a painfully familiar wall, his lips pressed to the wall in a loving kiss. Gently, she felt a pressure on her cheek that could not have come from the wall. It was familiar. Familiar like the comforting smell of the Doctor's jacket, familiar like the soul-embracing warmth of his arms, familiar like reassuring grip of his hand, familiar like the soothing balm of his smile on a heart that was torn a million different ways at once.

With a gasp, Rose realized that the pressure against her cheek was the soft press of The Doctor's lips across the galaxies. His love for her had passed through barricades that were impossible to circumvent, slipped past the doors that could not be unlocked, and rebuilt the bridges that were burned. But these passageways were still weak, for it takes two to kindle a love this strong, and the Doctor's faith was begging to wane.

In her mind's eye, Rose saw herself standing at the Doctor's shoulder, her hand tightly grasped in his, rapturous grins splitting both of their faces wide as they met one another's eyes. Rose wanted this to be true; wanted it so much, wanted it so deeply, that the power infusing her body began to work a miracle.

Now, as Rose was returned to her world, she sunk against the wall, all her strength and all of her love for him surging through the meaningless plaster and wood and concrete that separated her from him, her spirit reaching out to his across the universes, across the Void, almost reaching him, almost there, her hand only a fraction of an inch away from grasping his sleeve when her progress was halted. For only a moment, she froze. What kind of thing could she break through all those many times she did as she zigged around doors and zagged across newly built bridges, strengthening and mending as she went, and yet find a way to stop her here, of all places. She was so close, she would not be denied.

Rose pitched herself forward, pouring all of her will and determination and her love for the Doctor into the fight. She did not know how long she could keep up this fight, or if she would be able to outlast what ever was blocking her way. With horror, she noticed the Doctor rising from the wall, and the press of his lips had now faded. He moved in slow motion, his movement greatly exaggerated as he stepped up and began to turn back to the TARDIS.

"_Rose."_

A voice echoed through time and space, gentle as a soughing wind, calm as the sea at sunrise, wise as the most experienced ruler and sagacious as the oldest white tower-confined scholar. It was a voice of the ages.

_"There is but one thing you have left to do before you can leave your world. You have come a long distance, and that in itself is a confirmation of your love for the Doctor. But you have yet to prove that it is pure and true. There is only one question you must answer; think carefully, for this is the most important answer you will ever give. Tell me, Rose Tyler, how do you measure love?"_

Rose began to panic as she saw the Doctor still leaving, albeit his gate slowed to an impossible crawl. How do you measure love? What kind of ruler could measure such an intangible, ubiquitous being? She didn't have the means to explain the innumerable answers racing around her head, and so she simply began to speak instead. The words her mouth created were not of her own conscious thought, but from somewhere deep inside, someplace warm and familiar, a nurtured spot protected within the walls of her heart. It was where her hope had been kept safe for that long, arduous year, and where her intense love for the Doctor now resided.

"Love is immeasurable. It is as plentiful as the number of stars in the sky, as uncountable the amount of drops in the ocean, as vast as the ends of the universe." Inside, she felt like a child trying to grasp the meaning of life. Everything seemed so far beyond her comprehension. No doubt the Doctor could understand all of this. She struggled on. "Instead its weight is counted in each smile, length derived in each hug, and size calculated in each kiss. Love is that which the universe exists for, love is the only absolute. There is nothing that can truly measure love, only that which love is measured against." The words were foreign and unfamiliar in her mouth, but an instinctual part of her knew each and every word to be true.

Somewhere, Rose felt the smile of this mysterious entity asking the question. _"You speak with wisdom, Rose Tyler. A wisdom that is far beyond your age, your species, and any being in this universe. You speak with the Spirit of Love. You may pass. Go to him, his faith wanes. There is not much time."_

And suddenly the barrier was gone. She floated through the translucent wall, the tips of her trainers stuttering against the ground until the power that had consumed her body and soul only moments ago released her, and left her in a crumpled heap on the ground. Rose pushed herself up on her hands, only to freeze from the slight of the Doctor towering over her, his eyes wide with disbelief, and a terrible, agonizing pain that left him looking not too much unlike a wounded animal.

"Doctor." Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Had her love not been so strong, had her faith in the Doctor not been so sure, Rose would have deemed this moment impossible. But she knew different now, she knew that nothing was impossible.

His gaze fell first.


	6. The Impossible of Impossibilities

A/N: Ok, so the Doctor never _really_ mentioned to Rose what he told the Beast about her when he was in the Pit. Yeah, I kinda chucked that out the window and forgot about by the time it splattered all over the pavement. Trust me, it makes a _great_ line and a nice little tie up on an issue I had problems getting the dialogue right with. If I ever re-write this story and try to make it longer, then I might deal with that issue a little more smoothly. But for now, if it works, then I say fix it later. Love me for it, or hate me for it, but it does make a damn good line. Other than that, here you go.

* * *

The Doctor turned away from Rose, crossing to the other side of the room, a pained mask incising deep, jagged lines into his already haggard face. He had been ready. So ready to let her memory go and be at peace, so ready to go and live his life without her, so ready to accept this existence as his lot in life. And now some vile, despicable, cruel scumbag who probably wasn't fit to look at her beautiful face was mocking both of them by haunting him with her visage.

The Doctor turned and looked up, his face grim, jaw set defiantly. "No. This is _impossible_."

She stood, her gaze soft, her voice even softer. "Well, Doctor, then it looks like the impossible has just been defied." Her gaze darted away from his, she couldn't bear the sight of his haunted eyes.

The Doctor was silent for a long moment. Maybe, just maybe, she was real. Was that possible? And then he took a step forward, an unsure look on his face. He made to make another step closer, but hesitated. His eyes were hazy as a shaking hand rose tentatively towards her, almost as if he was ready to believe…but then that look fell and the hand dropped, and his face returned to the cold, calculating glare of a few moments ago. "Who are you? I demand to know who you are and why you are doing this!" His eyes blazed with fury, lips a thin, bloodless white. "_Identify yourself!_"

A pang thrummed Rose's heart. If she thought her loss of him was painful, then his must have been of an agonizing, soul-shattering intensity. Her chin jutted forward, this was something he had to accept on his own. There was nothing more she could do to make him believe. And this time she understood why. She knew, that for him, it was easier to deny it all and remain empty then dare to hope and be disappointed. "I am Rose Tyler. The Solar System. Third planet from the Sun, planet Earth. England. Londo-"

"You are _not_ Rose Tyler!" He leapt across the room in three sharp strides, hands fisted at his sides. His arm then cut the air like a scythe as he swung it in vicious denial. "You are not real! You are an image, an illusion. You are made of nanopixels and residual power laying about here from the breach that once opened into the Void. You do not _exist_." His eyes bored into hers, daring her to look away. "Now answer me. Whoever is behind this, _identify yourself!"_

Rose stared right back, arms crossed tightly across her chest, bottom lip clenched so tightly by her teeth that a glistening ruby of blood appeared on her lip. The drop was wiped away by the back of her hand, and a sharp wince appeared on her face from the sting of the cut. With a rueful chuckle, she glanced down at the streak of red on her skin. She held her hand forth for his inspection, a challenging gleam in her eye. "Am I not real, Doctor? Do I not bleed?"

His eyes clenched shut. He couldn't look, because if he did, he would try to touch her. And when her visage slipped through his fingers, dispersing and then reforming again, all would be lost. That door would be thrown wide open, all the pain and the suffering and the memories would come rushing back, and he would be left defenseless against the oncoming emotional storm. He would drown in remembrance. He would die.

His eyes remained tightly shut. "You can't be real." His voice was surprisingly firm and determined.

She took a step forward. He felt the more immediate closeness and could almost imagine her breath on his face; it felt so real, so tangible, so alive. And then she asked the one question he dared not answer. "Why?"

He answered it anyway, voiced laced with an undercurrent of shakiness. "Because if you're real – if you are the real Rose Tyler, if you are _my_ Rose Tyler - if you're alive and here with me, then everything I've ever believed in and died for, and regenerated for, and lost for, and mourned over for the last nine hundred years has been in vain. Then _that_ is the thing that does not exist. Then that means that there really _is_ something more powerful than the absolute law of the universe…" He paused, hesitating at the last bit of that thought, an acrid taste in his mouth from the bitterness of his tone. He sighed. "…Then that means that there is _nothing_ that is impossible."

Inside, Rose wanted nothing more then to laugh with joy and hug him tightly to her at that moment and kiss away all his doubts and pain, but she understood that he would have to make the first move. His life had been long, perhaps even too long, so that now he no longer fully trusted any of his senses – not even his own judgment. That's what the universe had done to him; taken a pure, unadulterated soul that had the untapped power to save the universe countless times over, and violated it to the point where trust between him and another being no longer existed. _He_ had to be the one to make him understand, it had to be his doing. And so she replied, "Touch me."

His eyes snapped open. Those beautiful, haunted hazel eyes. "No."

She pressed on, determined to make him do this. She refused to lose him again. "You once said that if there was only one thing in this world that you believe in, just one thing, it was me. Believe in me again. Believe in me now. I'm standing right in front of you, Doctor. I'm the one believing right now, that's how I got here. You still have to jump, Doctor. You still have to make that leap of faith."

"But what if I fall?" There it was, she saw it. A glimmer of fear. The Doctor could not bear to lose her for a second time. "What if I take that leap and I fall short? Even if you are here, at this moment, I can't give you the life you deserve. I can't give you a life with the promise of a tomorrow. I can't offer a life of safety or permanence." The blind fear in his eyes threatened to spill the tears beginning to form behind them. "I can't protect you."

But she knew that a sheltered life was not written for her. She knew that into the very deepest, darkest corners of her soul. Her place was at the Doctor's side. "Look at me, Doctor. Look into my eyes, and tell me what you see of my future."

He looked deeply, searching the infinite depths of her soul.

"Do you see me on my deathbed on Earth, wasting away into nothingness? Do you see me growing old and alone, without you at my side, and without me at yours?"

He was silent for what seemed to be an eternity. "No," he replied softly, eyes filming over. "No, Rose Tyler. That is not your future. Your future holds adventure and exploration and excitement. You will not waste away, you will watch the centuries pass with eternal youth. But when your day does come, when your life is to be taken, it will in a blaze of fire and glory. And your name will be remembered forever." He paused, as if discovering something he did not expect. His brow furrowed. "And when it is recalled, it will be in conjunction with mine."

His gaze refocused, voice strained. "But what does that mean? That you will watch the centuries pass with eternal youth? That you're name will be remembered forever, and with mine? You're human, that's impossible. At most you'll live another century, not several."

She moved even closer, so that she was hovering only the merest fraction of a centimeter away from him. Her voice was a low whisper, but the words were so powerful that the Doctor would not have doubted that planets a million miles away heard the echoes of her voice. "Touch me, and you'll see why impossible is only a word."

And in that one moment, the list of choices was unending. He could turn away and walk back to the TARDIS, he could stand here until the end of time, he could do something, he could do nothing. Or, he could touch her. He realized just then that this was his test, this was his judgment. No physically straining or mental challenges to grapple with, no ethical decisions or playing God with the lives of millions. That was his everyday life. His test was to believe so blindly in something, to love so unthinkingly – without weighing the pros and cons, without calculating or brooding or pondering the consequences of his actions; to just _love_ - that he would risk it all just for the euphoria of falling…and then to experience the delicious ecstasy of being caught. This was his test, and he was determined not to fail.

Rose's eyes fluttered closed as his fisted hand uncurled and rose from his side, gentle fingertips hovering a hair's breadth from the warm surface of her skin. And, as if he had been frozen in time for a fraction of a second, he could feel the comforting warmth radiating off her body, the familiar smell of her fading perfume that combined with the delicate scent of her soap, the golden sheen of her hair glowing with a soft, ethereal aura that seemed so strong and so fragile at the same time, like it would shatter if touched but could also weather the gale storm winds of Time. This was it. This was real.

And in this moment, in every universe of the universes, in the parallel of the parallels, in the farthest reaches of deep space, in the Void, and continuing into the Beyond, time stood still. Only three things in the entirety of known existence moved; the Doctor, Rose, and Love. It swirled and cavorted around the two of them, drawing them oh-so-slowly but infinitely closer together. A wild, free energy charged the air as his hand descended.

Then came the point of no return, in which history was forever changed by one, simple action: the contact of skin on skin. Everything that once was, everything that is, and everything that would come to be was no longer so certain, because the impossible - the impossible of impossibilities - had become real and true. This action didn't just make history; _it was history_, because this blind belief by two ageless time travelers that there was something that could make the impossible possible rewrote everything ever known.

Then, without quite knowing how he got there, the Doctor found ever centimeter of himself wrapped around Rose, his face firmly pressed into her neck as he wept freely. After a moment, he felt a dampness against his neck as well, realizing through a dense fog that clouded out all coherent thought - save for the fact that Rose was here and alive and whole, and most importantly, she was _his_ – that Rose was sobbing with relief as well. Still tightly ensconced in her arms, the Doctor began to search for the answer she assured him that he would find. He waited, and no epiphany came. All he could feel was a deep sense of relief, and a far more intense emotion that threatened to burst both of his hearts while ravaging the pit of his stomach at the same time. This emotion was accompanied by a high, giddy sort of feeling, a feeling like no one could touch him, or Rose, or even this moment. Time could not be stolen from them, because they were powerful enough to escape time. Their…their – what was the word he was searching for? It slipped from between his fingers time and time again, eluding his desperate grasp.

Slowly, he felt her pull away and his hands moved to cradle her face. The Doctor found his answer in her eyes, because the passion shining so brightly in them was impossible to deny. It was love. Love was the answer; love had done this.

His love for her, and, in return, her love for him is what had made this moment possible. Love was that greater power. It was stronger than time or space, or even the Law of the Universe.

Three words spilled from his lips before he could stop to think about the consequence of that action because they felt so _right_ as he said them. "I love you."


	7. The Last Guardians

A/N: Sorry for the gap between postings. Finals pretty much took over my life for the last few weeks. But now it's Christmas break and I'll be off for three weeks (hopefully posting more often during that time.) Thanks again to everyone who reviewed.

* * *

He grinned until he thought face would split in half. "I love you, Rose Tyler. I love you so much. A thousand times I love you, a million times. But it'll never be enough. I'll tell you everyday of your life, Rose Tyler, that I love you, and that I always will." He turned away from Rose, a blazingly defiant look crossing his features as his raised his voice to the heavens. "Let everyone know I love this woman! I love Rose Tyler! You hear that?" He gestured wildly in her direction. "_I love her!_"

He turned back, that same rapturous smile dazzling her as she felt one growing on her own lips. In another moment she was back in his arms, her chin tilted up in expectation, eyes unable to stray away from his. Softly, very softly, she heard him murmuring, as if he could not quite believe that he was saying these things, "I love her…I love her…" He laughed and shook his head in amazement.

Rose's fingers wrapped once, twice around his silk tie, a coy smile tugging at the edges of her lips, and gently pulled on it until his ear was level with her mouth. "Mmmm…I love you too, Doctor. So very, very muc-" The remainder of the word was swallowed by a soft kiss, so hesitatingly tender that Rose doubted she had felt it at all. The touch lingered for only a fraction of a moment, just a brief contact that was so intense it stole her breath. The Doctor made as if to turn from her, but a firm yank on his tie warned him otherwise.

It was hard not to laugh as Rose took in his red-tipped ears and shyly bowed head. His head came up, but his eyes directly avoided hers as a low string of incoherent mumblings spilled from his lips like water in a babbling brook. He was quickly silenced by Rose's lips, and now she was sure that the first kiss had been very real. Almost instantly, with another firm tug on the tie that was quickly becoming – at least in Rose's mind – mankind's finest and most useful invention, they were flush against one another, his hands gently cradling her face, her arms anchored firmly around his neck, neither of them daring to separate for even a breath for fear of being torn apart by some unseen enemy. The Doctor's enhanced respiratory system kept them well supplied with air for several minutes before it came fatally necessary to split.

They remained tightly intertwined, just about close as is possible for two beings made of flesh and bone, warm exhalations stirring expectant, sensitive skin. Rose was on the verge of tears again, a burning sensation just behind her eyes brought on the overwhelming torrent of emotions flooding her body in wave, after wave, after wave. The Doctor chuckled softly, untangling himself just enough so that he could see her face. His grin was quickly becoming infectious, a smile that lit up his eyes with an inner fire that was too ethereal to be given a name.

For all Rose knew, she could have been standing in that room in Torchwood Tower for a millennia, just looking into his eyes, and would have never noticed the passage of time. It was as if time flowed around the two of them, living on and working its unexplainable magic, but leaving the two of them untouched. And for all he tried, the Doctor could not reason his way out of what he felt surging through his body whenever his eyes met Rose's, what untapped power he felt in tingling his fingertips every time they touched. His mouth could not find the words nor could his mind even begin to grasp the gravity of the situation they had been thrown into.

Without a warning of any sort, without a sound or a stirring of the air, a voice – that same voice Rose heard as she jumped across the galaxies – said softly from behind them, "For all your wisdom, Time Lord, there is still much you have yet to learn about the universe."

Eyebrows raised in indignant disbelief, the Doctor spun around, completely gobsmacked, only to see a tall man with a regal stature and a solemnly lined face, clad in robes that shimmered with every color of the spectrum, some so strange to Rose's eyes that they appeared as completely translucent or seemed as if rippling water was woven into opaque fabrics. A small, strangled sound of disbelief escaped the Doctor's throat and his head tilted in intense curiosity. Rose's fingers scrambled down his arm until she reached a hand, then wove her fingers in tightly with his.

The man folded his arms into his voluminous sleeves and stepped forward, an appraising eye sizing up the Doctor and Rose. "It has been a _very_ long time since the last Guardians were alive. You two have a rather large mess to straighten out. Order has been abandoned in preference of chaos, reason forsaken in favor of malice, justice discarded for corruption. There are a great many things wrong with the universes, I have given you the tools to right these wrongs."

The Doctor and Rose stood stock still in the same positions, frozen in shock and disbelief. At the mentions of certain tools given to them, the Doctor somehow managed to slog his way out of the comatose state he had fallen into so that he could ask, "Tools? What tools?"

The man smiled, eyes twinkling. "Do you feel a strange tingle in your fingers, Doctor? A sensation that isn't normally there, and intensifies tenfold when you look into the eyes of the one person that means the most to you, the one person in this universe that you would willingly lay your life down for, if only to serve her happiness? The one person left in this universe that has broken down your defenses and earned your love. Yes, you know of it, I can see the truth in your eyes. That tingle you feel is only a single drop of water in an untapped reservoir. It is a gift, freely given by me in return for the blind faith you showed, so that you might right the many wrongs in this world." The man spoke softly with a euphonious rhythm, his words drifting on the air like the gentle ebb and flow of the tides. He spoke with a quiet confidence; a subtle omniscient, omnipresent tone layered under the many faint nuances of his voice.

The man's gaze now turned to Rose, a gentle smile playing about the corners of face. "You were given the gift first because of your unwillingness to give up hope, and for your blind faith in the Doctor. You had no reason to believe that he would ever come for you, in fact, you had blatant evidence to the contrary, and yet you still believed. That is because you love him, because you will always love him. You love him so deeply, and purely, and truly that to give up hope for him is unthinkable for you."

"The universes are many in number, the problems within each even greater, and ever since the beginning of time I have sought out members of different species whose love for something was so pure and true that they could never be tainted by the ravages of the world. It was their love that shielded them from those influences, and so they were able to become the judges of the universe. The love within them made them want to be better people, and so they transcended above the station of mortals. They were able to enter a situation with a strong moral sense of right and wrong, good and evil, and ability to divine truth from lie. They became Guardians of the universes, traveling for millennia until even the power I gave them was not strong enough to keep them from their deaths. I am the only constant in the universe, nothing will ever outlast me." He gave a rueful shake of his head, robes gleaming and rippling in harmony with his fluid movements.

"It is a curse and a blessing, a burden and a pleasure." He inclined his head toward the Doctor, the air around him permeated by an aura of calm solemnity. "We are not so unlike, you and I, Doctor. We share the same curse, to live on and watch our loved ones wither away into dust on the wind. I know the feeling all too well, and even I was not strong enough to save them in the end. It is the way of things; that I will live and the universes will crumble around me as time comes to its end. I will be there when it begins again. I will be here for eternity."

He was quiet for a long moment; the Doctor and Rose too awestruck to even blink. He began again, "And so this duty passes to you. You are my chosen. You are now the Guardians, but know this: you and your children will be the last. There will no longer be a need for Guardians once your family has passed on, at least in these universes, because I will defeat the one great evil and time will end."

Just as quickly as when the silence had begun upon the arrival of this strange man, it ended as Rose and the Doctor suddenly blurted out every question they had wondered about since this surreal experience began.

"What do you mean that time will end?"

"What do you mean about children?"

"What happens at the end of time?"

"Children is obviously plural, so that means more than one. But I don't want more than two. 'Kay I've decided, I'm only having two."

"Where did you come from?"

"Girl and another girl? Twin girls!"

"How much longer will I live?"

"Two boys? No, wait, I don't want two boys. They'd end up like him and be right little terrors."

"How much longer will she live?"

"Boy and a girl?"

"Why now?"

"Will I lose the weight after I have said children?"

"Why her?"

"Why him?"

They glanced at one another, sheepish grins on their faces. "Why us?" they asked in unison.

"Oh, and by the way," Rose piped up, slipping in one last comment, "d'you mind me asking who you are?"


	8. The Everlong

A/N: My author's note is at the bottom of the page because it has some plot spoilers in it for this chapter and I didn't want to ruin the story for someone by putting it up here.

* * *

The man was silent for a long while, the deafening quiet cloaking the room like a thick blanket. Slowly, softly, he began to chuckle, a low sound from deep within his throat. The chuckle grew into a laugh, and soon, the strange man's musical laughter was filling every corner of the room. It was a sound as warm as his speech, something familiar that touched the hearts of the Doctor and Rose in a place that had been left untouched for far too long.

The man's laugh drifted off, and he spoke, "I should have known that ones as young as you would be curious."

The Doctor took offense at that, his chest puffing up in indignation. "Oi! Watch who you're calling young. I'm nearly a millennia old, I wouldn't call that young." He pointed at Rose. "Now, she's naught but twenty…" Rose scowled, her nose wrinkling in protest.

The man nodded knowingly. "In age, yes, but in spirit? You, Time Lord, should know of all people in this universe that age is just as relative as time, especially for time travelers such as yourself. Rose has only lived in this world for twenty years, but her soul is much, much older. I have also…given her something. Something I'm sure you would have given her without hesitating if you had been capable of giving it. I have gifted it to her in your stead, I hope you don't mind."

"You gave her the Everlong?" His voice was peaked with intense curiosity, and his eyes shone brightly with wonder.

He nodded again. "Yes, in my own way."

"What's the…Everlong?" Rose asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

The Doctor turned toward her, an eager grin spreading his lips. "It was an ability - a gift if you will - that the Time Lords could give another member of a different species. But only one time, just once. It granted that person long life because they were tightly intertwined with the life of the Time Lord or Lady that had given the gift. The two reached equilibrium between each of their lives; in essence, they became equals, and if a special personal connection was made between the giver and the recipient, they were able to share thoughts and dreams and knowledge and memories with one another. This intimate connection was very rare. When the giver died, the recipient died as well, but since Time Lords had the longest life span in the known universe, the recipient experienced unnatural long life. They didn't regenerate like the Time Lords did; they simply never aged, never withered away. The Everlong, as both the recipients and the gift was called, were mostly very special people held in high esteem from outside the Gallifrian society. Many other planetary leaders that were allies of Gallifrey became part of the Everlong." He paused, and his volume of his voice dropped down a few notches. "But sometimes it was given in secret to those that Time Lords fell in love with during their journeys, or people they found worthy of their gift. My grandmother was one of the Everlong; my grandfather was pureblood Time Lord, my grandmother was human. They had one child, my mother. She fell in love with and married another pure Time Lord, my father. I am a descendent of an Everlong, I am one quarter human, three quarters Time Lord. That's why I couldn't give you the gift, I was born without the ability to give the Everlong."

"I inherited many of the pure Time Lord traits: the regeneration gene, two hearts, enhanced respiratory system, minor telepathy, and so on. But I was born with something that very few Time Lords had. My grandfather, my mother, and my father had all these traits, but the strongest came from my grandmother who was a pure human. I was born with the ability to love and identify with other species, and not just other Time Lords. I was born with the capacity to hate and a thirst for revenge against those that wronged me. I had a strong moral compass where many in my society saw morality to be somewhat relative. It made me different…it made me human to them. And just so you know, for a long period of time in Gallifrey, humans were looked down upon as beneath the Time Lords because they were foolish and mortal. To some of the Elders on Gallifrey, I was something much, much worse than just a pureblood human. I was Time Lord with his genes mucked up by human genes. I was blasphemous to look at. To them, I had done no better than thumbed my nose at them by continuing to live in their society with my polluted genes. In some ways I realize that the Gallifrian society was no different than that of the Daleks; the only difference between our two ways of life was that we did not seek to purge the rest of the universe and press our ideas on other people. During that period on Gallifrey, I stayed away for two reasons: I was part human, and had no interest in being glared at wherever I went; also because I knew they were wrong, simple as that. Humans have an amazing ability that most Time Lords do not, and I can't tell you how grateful I am to have the ability as well. I can love, and it has been my reason for living for the past few years." He smiled softly at Rose, and touched her cheek. She remained frozen in shock.

Rose's hand pulled out of his, and only for a moment, he feared that Rose was repulsed by what she had heard. He started to turn from her in shame, but then she caught him in a fierce hug, a beautiful, blazing look on her face. She gripped handfuls of jacket material and held him tightly against her. "I love you so damn much," she whispered, her throat compressed by intense emotion. He smiled into her hair.

"And now it is time for me to answer some of the many questions you have," the man said, and held up a finger for silence when he saw the strange looks on the Doctor and Rose's faces as they separated, though their hands retained a physical link. He already knew what the question would be. "I will not answer all of them, only the most important. There are some things you must discover for yourselves, or are things not meant for you to know. I carry the burden of knowing everyone's fate, and it is a burden I am destined to carry alone."

He turned to Rose, that familiar little smile gracing his lips. "Yes, you will have two children. They will be twins, a boy and a girl. The boy will be 2 minutes and 18 seconds older than the girl. I already know their names, but I think it is best to let you choose them for yourselves. Your family is destined, and so I have great faith that you will choose the names that I have already seen." His gaze began to shift back to the Doctor, but then it returned, with an afterthought. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot. You will be the same size you are now after you've had the children."

Rose breathed an enormous sigh of relief and beamed a brilliant smile, and the Doctor strangled down a laugh that was building in his throat.

"Doctor, I believe you wanted to know what happens at the end of time." The Doctor stepped slightly forward, eager to hear an answer for the question he had waited long to hear. The man spread his hands wide, palms up, and replied, "It begins again. The universes will implode, first expanding the will be rapidly devoured by the black holes created in their wake. These black holes will eventually consume one another, and the last black hole remaining will consume itself until there is nothing left. Even the Void will be eaten by these massive supernovas. Everything will be gone and lost, except a small kingdom of people who have been chosen because of their pure, blind faith in something greater than themselves, greater than this entire universe. They will remain in a place higher than that of the universes, and will descend when I plant the seeds of the universes again."

"That statement inexorably leads into another question: Who am I? I am love, I am hope, I am compassion, I am the miracles of everyday life, I am the wind in the trees and the clouds in the sky. I am that strange tingle in your fingers, I am in the flutter in your heart, I am the reason for everything. I am the Farmer who planted the seeds of the universe, and I am the Reaper who will come to harvest the crop I have sown."

"So you're…God?" Rose asked, biting her lip.

"That is one of my names, but it is not my one true name. I have many names. No one knows my true name, and no one ever will. Like I said, I will live on. When that small kingdom of people from across the universes ascend into that higher place, they are ascending into my home."

The Doctor look strangely at the man who was God, and said simply, "We believed in you, my people. At least in a creator."

Rose was taken aback. "Really? I never took you for religious."

"It wasn't necessarily a religion, just a belief." The Doctor shook his head, clarifying, "There were Time Lords who were still alive from when the universe was very, very young. From what they told, in their stories and their recollections, the universe was impossibly complex even at that early stage. We accepted that _something_ had been there, something highly intelligent, even smarter than our entire society put together, had begun the foundations of the universe and gave it life. It didn't just spring out of nothingness on pure coincidence."

"And that something is you. You created the universes, you gave them life…you let evil into the world." The Doctor took two more steps towards the strange man, a slight irritation worming into his tone. "You say that you are love and compassion. There's something called hate. How'd that get in your universes? You say that you are miracles. There's violence and killing. You say that you are the Farmer that plants the seeds and the Reaper that harvests them. What about the killing plague that destroys your crop before the Harvest?"

"You claimed that time ends when you defeat the one great evil of this world. I have spent my entire life fighting against what you could destroy with one sweep of your hand. I have lost my people, my loved ones…I almost lost Rose." He drew himself up to his full height, that irritation now having morphed into a well-fermented bitterness. "I want to know why. Why do you let the innocent die, and the guilty live? Why did you give such intelligence to a people that would only use it for destruction? Why can you not just sweep evil away with a wave of your hand?"

For only an instant, a flash of righteous anger flickered across the strange man's face. Then it left just as quickly, and he answered, "Because it is not yet time. Because with life there will always be good and evil, fairness and injustice, love and hate. It is the way of things. No laws bind me, but I am bound tightly by the fates of the universe. The time for the end of these universes has not yet come to pass."

"It is not I that will choose the time and the place. It will be what you know as Evil. I already know when this will occur, and He does not know that I know. His downfall will be in his arrogance, his self-assuredness that he knows more than I do, that he is wiser than I, that he will pick the time and the place of our final battle and I will be caught by surprise."

The Doctor scowled, throwing his hands up in frustration. "So that's it. You wait for Evil to make his move and play with the rest of our lives in the meantime. What makes you so sure that it's time for all those people to die and be destroyed by those black holes? Who're you to say that they should die just because they don't believe in you? Why will you not save them?"

The man sighed, and then gently rubbed his fingertips together. "The reasons why things are the way they are cannot be spoken in the words of any tongue in the universes." His fingertips touched the Doctor's temples, and only moments after the contact, the Doctor slumped forward, unconscious. The man gently lowered the Doctor to the floor. He looked up, and met Rose's accusing gaze. "You know why, don't you Rose? Again the Doctor has still seen too much of this universe to believe so blindly, even now. But you're different Rose; you still can see the good in every person. The Doctor is both identical to you and a polar opposite as you simultaneously. You know why, Rose Tyler, I can see it in your eyes. I cannot tell him. He will not listen to me, he will only question and doubt and wonder. You must show him. He believed when he saw the truth in your eyes, help him to believe again."

There was not even a sliver of doubt in her mind that this man was who he claimed to be. He glowed with an ethereal radiance that could not be generated or forged. His smile came from his heart, not the muscles of his face, and his eyes shone with a brightness not of these universes. This man - or whatever he was - was not of this world, or of any mortal world. "How?" she asked.

"You are one of those very rare Everlong that have a special connection with their Time Lord. You can share anything with him that your mind can conjure."

One part of the Doctor's explanation about the Everlong stood out brilliantly in Rose's mind. "But the Doctor said that the Everlong only had a mental connection with their giver…that means I'm connected to you, yeah? But that can't be right, 'cause then that'd mean I'd live as long as you do, and you'll never die, so…" She trailed off, not sure what her reasoning meant.

"I said I'd given you the Everlong in my own way," he replied. "The Time Lords were limited by the fact that the person they gave it to could only be linked to _themselves_. In my way, I can bond any two beings of my choice, hence you are linked to the Doctor, and not me."

She flashed him a hesitant sort of smile and turned to face the peacefully slumbering Doctor, all the while wondering inside, "_What is it exactly I'm trying to convince him of?_"

That same familiar voice she had heard inside her head when she wondered what the aura was back in her own Torchwood Tower, and the same voice that had provided the answer to a question that seemed unanswerable, replied, "_You must show him that there always has been life and death in the universes, it is the way things were and are meant to be. But you must also show him that there are moments in life that make it worth living, even in a universe where nothing but death seems to be a constant. You must show him that these trials are only to test his faith, to show that it is strong and pure._"

Suddenly, Rose knew what she had to show him to make him believe. She knelt next to him, gently touch her fingers to his pulsing temples, and felt out for his mind. "_Doctor,_" she said as loudly as she could mentally, feeling for the mental connection, her fingers spread wide as they desperately sought the link that joined them together. "_Doctor, answer me!_"

* * *

A/N: I wrote and rewrote this chapter many times, trying to find the perfect balance. At first I wrote it with the Doctor basically accepting every word the stranger said, and it didn't feel like the Doctor to me. Just didn't seem like the kind of issue where he would take the back seat and not question it. I wrote it again where he got very pissed off and punched the man. Seemed like a good idea at the time, put it away for an hour or so, then came back and read it. First thing that pops into my mind: what the hell was I _thinking_? That kind of scene doesn't give a writer many options for the continuing chapters and I didn't like the road it was headed down. Finally, becoming increasingly frustrated, I completely shut down my computer for the night and went to bed. And just my luck, I wake up at 3:28 A.M. with the _perfect_ idea: The Everlong. Blasted plot bunnies refused to leave me alone, and so here I am now, getting ready to post this chapter after tweaking it all morning. Anyways, thought I'd share that little bit with you, hope you liked this chapter. Next chapter will be the last, plus an epilogue…I think. Last time I said that though, the story grew by several more chapters than I expected. :D 


	9. A Tale of Fate

A/N: Bleh. Two months. This blasted chapter took me two blasted months to complete. It was mostly school that kept me from writing when I did have good ideas for it, and my muse being decidedly stubborn when I did have spare time to spend on this. Funny thing is, it ended up not being very long. Only like 2,000 words or something. Odd. Anyways, I guess all that really matters is that it's done. So, finally, I present the last chapter of Transcendence.

* * *

The reply came swiftly, still marked by a stinging bitterness, though it brought with it a connected feeling not unlike what it felt to be falling through empty space only to be snatched from thin air and held onto tightly. "_Yes?_"

Suddenly, feeling all the ideas and thoughts she had flooding to the forefront of her mind, Rose began to speak, her words a jumbled mess that made sense in her head but came out as a garbled, incoherent string. The Doctor understood what was happening, and pushing his own steaming anger aside, he began to guide Rose through this strange experience. "_First time I experienced telepathy, I almost passed out._"

He heard her musical laughter ring in his mind.

"_It feels like everything you've ever said or wanted to say is creating a massive pressure inside your head, each individual thought – from what shoes you chose to wear this morning to wondering why I take my eggs sunny side up – is screaming to be released all at once. You have a hard time organizing sentences and before you've even said half a word, you change your mind and switch to a different thought._"

Again, he heard her laughter, but this time also felt her smile. Being a telepathic, the Doctor had felt many peculiar sensations through a mental connection, but never one so wonderful as feeling the blossoming grin of the woman he loved. She replied hesitatingly, words organized into proper sentence structures, though a few stutters were peppered throughout. "_Exactly. It seems all properly put right in my head, but comes out all mixed together._"

"_See? Much better. All you have to do is focus on one thought at a time. If it helps, first picture yourself saying it, chances are I'll see it as well even though you don't mean it to._" He opened his mind's eye, and saw Rose standing before him, the empty room around them an untainted white, her fingers splayed over his temples and eyes squeezed firmly shut. He brought his hands up to mirror hers, the gentle pulse of the heartbeat in her temples thrumming against his fingertips. "_Open your eyes._"

She complied, and immediately her gaze locked onto his. "_Doctor, I need you to listen, but I also need you to trust me._" She felt the connection begin to slip away as he withdrew into himself. She grabbed wildly for anything that still held them together and held on tight, saying all the while, "_You trusted me, Doctor, not so very long ago. You saw the truth in my eyes. You believed in me. I've already convinced you of this once, why do you forget so easily?_"

The connection held steady just long enough for him to say, "_I've seen to much of this world to put much faith into anything. Even you, even the creator of all this._" He gestured around in a helpless motion. "_He was right about me, I'm sorry._"

The link slipped through her fingers.

"_NO!_" she shouted, with as much vehemence as when she was separated from the Doctor the first time, with as much defiance when she was torn from him in her dreams. She pulled him back to her, and bulldozed into his mind, shoving images – one after another – into his brain, pulling memories from the Doctor's own sealed vaults, forcing him to relive both his and her life. All the while, she said, "_This is life, Doctor. Believe it or not, like it or not, but we are the same. We have loved, we have lost. We have cried _and_ laughed. We built _and _destroyed. This is life, Doctor, and we all live through it the same. We are born to live, not born to die. The only question is what we do with our lives. What have you done with yours?_"

He tried to pull back, a deep-rooted panic rising in his throat. He was terrified of what Rose would discover what things he had done during the Time War. He was at peace with his life, but would she be as well? Would she be repulsed? Disappointed? Furious? He didn't think he could bear it if she rejected him now.

It seemed days must have passed before Rose was finished. She spoke, "_Don't you see now? Yours has not been wasted. Yes, you killed. But what did that accomplish? Millions – no, billions – of lives were saved. The two most powerful species in the universe went to war, razing planets and civilizations with a single word or the sweep of a hand. You ended that conflict. The price was high, but it was paid. You ended a billion lives in an instant, but you never stopped to consider how many more you also saved._"

" _Everything you've done, everything I've done, it all was to bring us here._" She stopped for a moment, remembering what the voice had said. She added, gently, "_Doctor, these trials are only to test your faith, to show that it is strong and pure._"

He sighed heavily and sank towards Rose, his forehead resting against hers. She gently stroked his hair and whispered soft words to him, and slowly, inch by agonizing inch, he began to shed the worries of the universe. They were no longer his to bear alone. Rose gladly took half of the load, carrying it with a confident ease the Doctor had not expected.

"_You're stronger than I expected,_" he commented sheepishly.

He felt her smile again as she replied, "_It's because I don't have to carry it alone. I know you'll be there to catch me if I fall._"

He pulled her tight against him, and over her shoulder he saw a white light beginning to grow in the distance. He was hypnotized by it. Soon it filled his field of vision, the eye-searing radiance of it lulling his eyes closed again. He felt Rose's arms tighten around him before he drifted off. Her last words were, "_Trust me…_"

* * *

He awoke in a standing position, still wrapped around Rose. From over her shoulder, he saw the stranger admiring the TARDIS. The man's hand reached out to touch one of its battered blue walls, and the Doctor saw something he had not witnessed in a very long time. Upon making contact with the wall, a soft golden aura shrouded his wondrous ship, and for just a moment he saw the TARDIS in her natural form, just as she would have appeared on his home planet. She wouldn't look that way anywhere else in the universe, even if he did fix that blasted Chameleon circuit.

He stood aghast, wanting to memorize that brief moment, so deeply enthralled in a glimpse of Gallifrey that he didn't notice Rose slip out of his arms and turn to see what he was staring at. He finally found his voice, and discovered there was only one thing he could think of to say: "Thank you."

The stranger smiled. "You are very welcome, Time Lord." He reached into the deep folds of his robe and produced a heavy tome, the leather cover scarred, the brass hinges tarnished, and the old pages frayed. Strange markings were embossed into the spine of the book. He handed it to the Doctor, and said simply, "Both of you have a lot of work to do." He winked, turned towards the far wall and walked right through it.

The Doctor and Rose stood awestruck for several minutes, and then their attention was inescapably drawn to the volume the Doctor held in his hands. For the first time, he caught sight of the odd symbols on the spine, which were to him, not odd at all. "I don't believe this," he breathed.

"Hasn't the last…however the hell long it's been taught you to believe in the impossible," she laughed, nudging him with an elbow. He didn't laugh back. Recognizing his serious demeanor, she jerked her head towards the book and asked, "So what is it?"

"_Iae Daedalic Avangadra._" His fingertips reverently brushed a large seal carved into the cover of the book. The Doctor recognized it as the seal of Rassilon, a universal symbol of anything that belonged to Galllifrey.

"What?"

"It's Gallifreyan for 'A Tale of Fate'. This book is a complete history of the universe, from the earliest point that the Time Lords could attempt to see all the way up to the farthest into the future we could calculate to go." He grinned hugely, flipping open the hasps that held the tome closed. "I thought that all of these had been lost. They killed the author you know. One of the first casualties of the Time War. The Daleks planned on establishing a new world order and didn't want anyone to stumble on a book that told of a time when they weren't the supreme rulers of the universes."

When he opened to the first page, the Doctor was so shocked he almost dropped the volume from his now trembling hands. The page was blank. Completely blank. An inkless expanse of white paper. Something was wrong. He flipped to the next page, and then the next, and the next. All of them were blank. There was no history of the universe anymore. "This…this is…"

"Impossible?"

He snorted, cramming one hand into each eye and rubbing furiously. The pages remained just as blank as before. "I guess this is what he meant when he said we have a lot of work to do." The Doctor snapped the book shut with a resounding clap and held out his free hand for Rose to take. She raised a questioning eyebrow. He grinned in reply, and said, "C'mon. We have to re-write all of history _and_ save the universe."

"Possibility of danger?"

"Very likely."

"Chance of running for our lives?"

"Better than very likely."

" Odds that at some point we'll be arrested because of something your smart mouth said?"

He thought for a moment. "I wouldn't stake a regeneration on it but the likelihood is quite probable."

She laughed and took the offered hand. "Then count me in."

He flashed his trademark wild grin and pulled her across the room to the TARDIS. Rose rested a fond hand on one of its doors as the Doctor fumbled for his key. She stayed his hand, and asked, "Would you mind…?" She jerked her head to indicate the lock.

"Of course not." He stepped away from the door, motioning for Rose to take his place. She withdrew a key on a chain under her shirt, throwing a coy glance at the Doctor over her shoulder. She inserted the key into the slot awaiting it, but hesitated when it came time to unlock the door. Behind her, the Doctor stepped in close and maneuvered his free arm around her, resting his hand over hers. After a moment they turned the key in synch, throwing the door to the TARDIS open wide. The interior of the TARDIS looked identical to the way she had left it that fateful morning.

Rose released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and looked up at the Doctor, only to see he was already gazing down at her. The Doctor laughed, urging her inside. She complied, running up the short ramp and touching the familiar columns and rails of the TARDIS. He plopped the book down on the console and turned, asking, "It's all changed now, hasn't it?"

Rose faced him, a question eyebrow raised in confusion. "What do you mean by 'changed'?"

He stepped closer, away from the console. "Everything is…different between us. Better now," he smiled, "but still different."

"No," she shook her head. "It isn't different. It was always this way between us. We loved one another before this, and we still love each other now."

He stared hard at her for a moment, and then spoke. "You continue to surprise me, even after all this. Dance with me, Rose Tyler?" he grinned, offering an inviting hand to the woman he loved.

She took the invitation, and replied, "Always."

Minutes later, a blue Police box that had never officially been there in the first place de-materialized from Torchwood Tower, the fading echoes of its engines falling on ears that weren't there to hear it. Somewhere in time, two figures stood looking out a window and into the endless reaches of space, merely gazing at the stars, and knew it was within their power to wave a hand and change it all.

In simpler terms, they had transcended.

* * *

This is not the end of the story, but merely the end of a chapter taken out of the lives of two people. The lives they would go onto change and the planets they would save someday are chapters that have yet to be written. No story is ever truly finished, because the future itself is only blank pages in a book that remain unwritten, and only one thing in the universe knows what they will say.

* * *

A/N: And now for the epilogue, and some much needed fluff. 


	10. Epilogue: Fifteen Years Gone

A/N: This might just be some strange sort of coincidence, but I'm posting this final chapter on my 16th birthday. Odd. Anyway, whoo, go me! Where was I? Ah, yes. The end. Where to begin? Thanks to everyone who reviewed, seeing all of those messages in my inbox always made my day and encouraged me to plop down in my computer chair and wrestle with this fic for a few hours. But now it's at an end. I felt it appropriate to end with some major fluff and humor, since it was definitely needed. After nine chapters of angst, suspense, and drama I figured everyone would like a little break. God knows I did, if my one-shots in between posts have anything to say about it. And so here you have it, but if it's the end or if it's only a beginning is for you to decide. Who knows? I might be able to dredge up a sequel.

* * *

The leader of the Titanians, King Heraldrus, was becoming increasingly frustrated with the pair of prisoners that stood before him, hands manacled by hefty handcuffs linked together with a thick chain made of unbreakable nitroid metal. They were, effectively, at his mercy and yet everytime he attempted to put a question to either of them, they managed to evade the question or steer the conversation away with a seemingly practiced ease. Most captives were shocked into speaking just by the mere presence of the massive Titanian king, while the remaining few that did not speak willingly were forced into answering when Heraldrus threatened to order his torture master to apply his talents to said detainee.

He also cut quite an impressive figure; his height just brushing under the ceiling of nine feet with scything claws that extended from large four-knuckled fingers, and had a deep, gravelly voice with a diamond blade edge that could make even the bravest warrior wilt in fear. And yet these two remained unafraid, undaunted, and frankly, unimpressed. The male - a tall, thin and lanky-limbed specimen clad in a slightly battered pinstriped suit and hastily knotted tie - had a quick, eager grin and a sharp wit that stung; while his counterpart, the female, was a perfect foil. She was shorter, younger, and had a smile with a sarcastic bite, whose words were clipped with a strange accent – similar to the man's but much heavier.

Finally, feeling thwarted at every turn by these two aggravating foreigners, the king gave into his temper. "Who _are_ you?" he demanded angrily, his clenched fist descending onto the armrest of the throne with such force that a delicate spider web of cracks crawled across the surface of the stone.

"Well, that's the question!" The man replied cheekily.

The woman opened her mouth as if to say something, and then shut it again, a frown now creasing her brow. "Am I the only one with déjà vu?"

"No…I've got it too." The man thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers in victory and exclaimed, "My tenth's first Christmas…the Sycorax…I'm rude and not ginger!"

"Yep, that was it," The woman grinned. "You're still not ginger though, I could do something about that. My friend Val works in a hair salon..." An impish glint crept into her eye.

"Oh no," he replied, hands waving furiously to ward off any possibility she might misunderstand him. "You aren't coming within ten feet of me with your Earth products. My hair is just the way I like it…even though it's not ginger. Never telling what I might end up with eventually though." The two prisoners grinned at one another.

Now enraged even further by having his question blatantly ignored by the two captives, the king roared, "_ANSWER THE QUESTION!_"

"Right then, who are we?" The woman raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Well…we're one short of being the Three Stooges."

"I'm glad you can count."

"Abbot and Costello?"

"We're not funny enough to be Abbot and Costello."

"Han and Chewy?"

"I could choose to be very insulted right now, but I'm gonna restrain myself."

"I knew I loved you. Sherlock Holmes and Watson?"

"Two things. One, you're not smart enough to be either of them. Two, you look horrible in tweed." She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought of her companion in a set of tweeds, and then added as an afterthought, "Oh, I love you too."

He grinned. "I quite agree about the tweed. The snide comment about my intelligence will be debated later…Scooby and the Gang?"

"The girls are pansies, the men wear bellbottoms, and we don't have a dog named Scooby. We do have one named Apollo though."

"Batman and Robin?"

"You're only into them 'cause Batman gets cool gadgets." She jabbed an accusing finger at him, and in response he spread his hands wide, palms up in a gesture of surrender.

"Guilty as charged. How about James Bond and one of his Bond girls?"

"Again with the gadgets! But I would go for that…'cept he always ditches the girl or she gets killed. In that case I'd need to wear a Kevlar vest and be shackled to you at all times."

"Kinky."

"Yeah, and kinda hard to run from aliens when we only have three legs between the two of us."

"Hansel and Gretel?"

"Honey, we have children. That would be incest. And plus, gingerbread makes me break out in hives."

"It does? Really? You're not joking?"

"Yep, big as apples…all over."

"Ouch. Remind me to help the kids make gingerbread houses next Christmas."

"I was able to restrain myself against being insulted the first time, but the urge to hurt you where the sun don't shine is getting awfully hard to resist."

"Wouldn't that be a disadvantageous for you?" he grinned slyly, a suggestive note entering his voice.

"Come again?"

"We both know I'm a total dynamo in bed, so why would you want to break the most useful part that contributes to me being a dynamo?"

"Ok, I guess I'll have to agree with you on that point…I'll burn off other unneeded parts of your anatomy then. Like your thumb."

"Oi! I believe we've already discussed that I like my thumb, I need it, and that I'm rather attached to it." The man cringed, offering up new suggestions to their identities. "Romeo and Juliet? Lysander and Hermia? Demetrius and Helena? Othello and Desdemona?"

"I knew you were going to bring in Shakespeare. Just because you helped to write the plays doesn't mean you have to go showing it off to everyone."

"Kermit and Miss Piggy?"

"I resent that."

"I love you."

"I know, you've already used that as an escape. It's not going to work again."

The king was now far beyond enraged, and ages past infuriated. Slowly, he rose from his throne, and in a slightly odd gait due to the fact that he had one bum leg, he walked up to the two prisoners. His scything claws ripped jagged holes in their jackets as he hoisted them off the ground. The king spoke in a low growl, a disgusted snarl nearly escaping into his voice several times as he said, "You will answer the question. If you are disinclined to acquiesce to my request, I'll simply hand you over to my torture master, Dratian, and forget you ever came here."

The woman's face hardened, and she spoke in a low voice, "You just made the biggest mistake of your entire life, and I'll now guarantee it's your last."

"And what would that be?" the king sneered into the her face, the rancid breath following his words so repulsive that the woman was forced to turn away to inhale a fresh lungful of air.

She turned back to face the massive Titanian with a menacing smile on her face and a strange glint in her eye, and replied, "You ruined my favorite jacket."

Suddenly, the Titanian king found his claws grasping thin air, talons that only moments ago held two bodies at his mercy were now mysteriously gone. In confusion, the king looked around, eyes raking across the throne room, neither of his captives in sight. They had disappeared. From behind, the king heard a familiar voice, "Rather comfy chair you got here, mate. What's it made out of?"

Heraldrus spun to face the direction of the voice, only to see his two prisoners lounging lazily on the carved throne, the cuffs that once bound their wrists missing as well. The king blinked. Their teleportation had made no sound or other sensation. They had simply ceased to exist where they were and reassembled themselves somewhere else.

The king shook his head, bewildered, and asked, "What is this witchcraft, this magic?"

The man grinned and leaped from the throne, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Not witchcraft, not magic." He turned slowly to face his counterpart, and smiled gently. He said, very softly, almost so quietly that the king could not hear despite his superior senses, "Love."

King Heraldrus snorted in disdain and tapped a small communicator strapped to his wrist. A hologram of his chief of security materialized on the surface of the pad. The miniature representation of the Titanian saluted smartly and asked in a gravelly voice, "Yes, 'ighness?"

"Come and deal with these prisoners. I tire of their mindless chatter." He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "Send for Master-Captain Dratian. I'm sure he will be able to find proper…_lodgings_ for our guests."

The chief was not known for his superior intelligence. "Huh, huh, huh. Good one, 'ighness. Where d'you s'pose Cap'n Dratian will put 'em?"

The king rolled his eyes and breathed a long-suffering sigh. "I don't know, I'm guessing he will put them into the torture chambers…just like the rest of our prisoners, and right where I'll put you if you don't march yourself and a battalion up here _now_ and deal with these ingrates!" He swung back to face the prisoners who were conversing in low tones.

The man disengaged himself from the conversation, walked up to the king and offered out a hand. He rattled on happily all the while, "Well, it's been nice to meet you, King Heraldrus, quality establishment you've got here. Though your staff could do with a bit of pick up in the manners department. We've really got to get going. Places to see, things to do, corrupt kingdoms to overthrow, wars to halt, and all that rot."

His partner ambled up, and slipped in, "Kids to feed. We promised we'd be home before dinner, and we both know what happen last time we left them alone in the kitchen."

The man groaned, his hand still hovering in mid-air, waiting for the king to shake it. "Took me absolute _ages_ to get that pudding out of the air vents. Poor TARDIS, she's taken her fair share of abuse." The two roared with laughter. After a few moments, the man looked down and realized that Heraldrus still hadn't shaken his hand and explained, "Oh, you shake it."

The king replied with a blank look.

"It's an Earth thing I s'pose. No idea why they shake hands – on some planets they shake feet or heads. Odd, innit?"

The king was robbed of a chance to reply as the muffled thunder of footsteps grew to a crescendo outside the throne room as the battalion of guards mounted the long, winding stairway. Heraldrus grinned slyly and stepped past his prisoners, depositing himself in the ornately carved throne to better watch the proceedings. The man's arm fell limply to his side and he took a few nervous paces back from the door. His companion was far more confident as she quickly bent her knees and centered her weight. She grinned wildly, and called back to the man who was currently scrambling to find something in one of his many pockets, "C'mon then, Doctor. Let's see if you remember what Master Wu taught you!" She then snorted and glanced back, adding, "Oh, that's right. I forgot. While I stayed and attended my lessons, you decided to play hooky and go have a cuppa with the Emperor of China."

"Rose," he whined, still attempting to locate the elusive object, "we were in 15th century China for God's sake, how could really expect me to sit there and attend karate lessons when the Emperor's favorite tea house is just down the block! I mean, honestly." With a sound of triumph, the man extracted a small silver device about the length of a pencil from an inner pocket of his suit coat and wielded it menacingly at the door. "Right, now that I'm properly armed – as those American blokes say it – Bring. It. On."

The woman sniffed. "I s'pose I should give you props for being able to accurately use slang in a situation like this."

The man grinned, "I know, I bloody brilliant when there's imminent danger." Their eyes met for a split second, and almost as if that look acted like a catalyst, they came together, lips fused in a searing kiss and arms anchored tightly around one another. Just as quickly, they broke apart, and right in time to receive the battalion of Titanian guards that came bursting through the door.

The king roared from his throne, "_Seize them!_"

Both were more than well prepared, and as soon as the doorway was clear, they simultaneously teleported across the room and to the head of the stairs. The man slammed the door shut and locked it tight with a shot from his device, and turned to his companion, saying, "Well, that'll hold them for while. Guess we better go inform the cavalry that the head honcho is sealed up tighter than an Alurian in a vacuum vortex in his throne room."

"And then?"

"That's for them to decide," he shrugged. "We've already rewritten this much, maybe it's time to let it take its own course again."

"Fair enough," she replied. "Guess we better get back to the TARDIS…and the kids."

"Oh no." He swore explosively and sprinted down the stairs, yelling over his shoulder, "Last one back has to clean it up!"

She grinned and ran after him, calling back, "Then you better find your rubber gloves and mop, pretty-boy!"

* * *

Upon returning to the TARDIS, and leaving the galaxial police to do what they wished the tyrannical king, the Doctor and Rose found the console room thankfully clean and immaculate. Both sighed with relief and sagged against the doorway, grins on their faces. They left two twelve-year-olds alone in the TARDIS and no major, world shattering disaster had occurred. Crisis avoided. Alexandra, their youngest by only two minutes and eighteen seconds, wandered across the room, her nose buried deep in a thick volume, and commented, "Done inciting rebellion already, Dad?"

The Doctor snorted, a fond smile playing about his lips as he swiped the book from her hands and read the cover aloud. "A Treatise on the Relative Functions of Hyperspace Travel." He ruffled his daughter's hair and said, "Now, you only get to finish it if you can explain how this affected advances in time travel on Earth. Let's hear it, Alex."

The Doctor and Alex wandered down a corridor, supposedly towards the kitchen, their technobabble blending into a muted noise that Rose had grown accustomed to over the years. The Doctor turned as he walked with her, mouthing to Rose, "Luke?" Rose shrugged in reply. He just grinned and returned to the conversation, words spilling from his lips with a fluidity to rival his daughter's.

Alexandra was the apple of her father's eye. She ate theoretical scientific essays for breakfast. Though her personality was decidedly her father's, she was a spitting image of her mother. Rose laughed and shook her head, deciding that the first thing on her priority list was a long, hot shower. Maybe she would swing by the kitchen and perhaps convince the Doctor to join her…

Her fanciful musings were interrupted by the instantaneous arrival of her son, the eldest, Luke. Where Alex was her mother's mirror image, Luke was a blend of everything his father had been, a bit from this incarnation here, a touch from this regeneration there, and something they assumed that was already hidden in the Doctor's genes and had yet to assert itself in a regeneration. Luke had the piercing blue eyes from the ninth incarnation, but the vivid ginger hair was something the Doctor had yet produce. Alexandra and Luke were fraternal twins. They were opposite in almost every sense except one: they were both undeniably, incredibly brilliant. Sometimes their father admitted that they were probably smarter than him, although he always added as a teasing afterthought, "No thanks to the Tyler genes." That typically earned him an infamous Tyler slap, and a stinging, "Yeah, well, you can put that in your screwdriver and shove it up your -". Usually by then Rose remembered to stop herself.

But where Alex took every opportunity – like her father – to show off her immense cache of knowledge, Luke had a tendency to be more reserved and less of a bragger. Again, her thoughts were interrupted when he blurted, "Did you guys get arrested again?"

Something nudged her knee, and as she looked down, Rose met the soulful brown eyes of Luke's golden retriever, Apollo. He gave an impatient whine, and Luke interpreted, "He wants to know what happened too."

Since birth, Luke had an uncanny connection to animals of all species. He always instinctively knew what they were thinking, knew what they wanted. And so on his tenth birthday, through something all of them knew couldn't be just a coincidence, the TARDIS had her first canine stowaway. The golden retriever had been discovered the following morning napping on the floor of the console room. Immediately Luke had felt a strong connection to this animal, far stronger than anything he had previously known. At first, the Doctor was hesitant to have a pet like Apollo on board, but it wasn't long before the dog's uncanny intelligence began to exert itself. The Doctor was amazed to find that Apollo was a dog plus a little something extra, though what that extra was still remained a complete mystery.

Rose just chuckled again, scratching Apollo's ears and tucking an arm around her son. "Well, what makes you ask that?" All three of them glanced at her shredded jacket. Rose rolled her eyes. "Besides the obvious."

Luke just grinned. "The book."

Rose stopped, now holding her son by the shoulders and looking into his eye. "It's rewriting itself again?" Luke nodded and ran back down the corridor to the massive library, Apollo nipping playfully at his heels.

Rose closed her eyes for a moment and felt for the Doctor. Many years ago, it seemed to take ages for her to find their mental link. Now, it was like finding a light switch in a dark room you know as well as the back of your hand. "_Doctor, come quick. It's the book again._" She severed the link without waiting for a reply; she knew he heard her.

Rose took off after her son, skidding to a halt in from a massive set of double doors carved from mahogany. The doorway led into an impossibly enormous circular library, the likes of which were only seen in movies or read about in books. On a large pedestal near the far end of the room sat the same book Rose and the Doctor had been given fifteen years ago on this exact day. The only difference was that – where previously all of its pages were blank – small paragraphs and bits of history had written themselves into the book. Fifteen years of traveling the universes had barely made a dent in he vast amounts of history it once contained.

As she neared Luke, who stood over the open tome, Rose heard him reading aloud, " '…And King Ivectus Heraldrus, last of the Titanian conquerors of Galaan, was thrown down in the Autumn rebellion of 8726. Heraldrus' line invaded Galaan almost three thousand years before they were overthrown by the galaxial police. Mystery shrouds the roots of the rebellion, as well as the first strike team who initially captured the king and his elite guard within their own throne room.' "

Luke glanced back, a knowing grin on his face. Rose stepped closer and began reading over his shoulder. The Autumn rebellion wasn't supposed to happen for another two thousand years, and if the Doctor and Rose had had their way – and the TARDIS landed them in the right year for once – the reign of the Titanians would have ended before it really began. Luke continued to read aloud the words that wrote themselves in ink that seemed to flow upwards from the page itself. " 'Galaanic legend states that a fierce storm swept in and began stirring the people, telling them of freedom and a life out from under the crushing thumb of the Titanian dictators. It goes onto to even suggest that it was this same storm, elusive as the wind and slippery as water, who tricked the king and his guards, locking them tight in their own palace. Most of this myth lies in the fact that there is no trace or record of a rebel team that was sent to capture the king. The only viable lead discovered by historians was of a figure who is referred to as a 'doctor', and his talking flower who arrived only days before the rebellion broke out. No traces of the Doctor, nor of his talking flower (where in most versions of the myth it was said to be a rose) have ever been found.' "

From behind, the Doctor's voice said, "You see? That's what happens when you let thousands of years of history pass down by word of mouth." The Doctor and Alex now moved to stand on the left and right of the book, watching words form. "Your Mum and I overthrew Heraldrus not more than an hour ago and look, a few millennia later I'm some random physician and she's a talking flower."

Apollo, who was standing on his hind legs, front paws propped on the edge of the pedestal, sneezed resolutely at the Doctor and pawed the newly written page carefully. Luke interpreted again, "He says that history is fragile, but time is the thread that holds it together."

The Doctor looked seriously at Apollo, and asked, "Have you been reading the Philosophians again?"

The retriever chuffed angrily at the Doctor as if offended and dropped to the floor. He turned tail and flopped down on an armchair on the other side of the room. The Doctor just gaped. "I do believe I just told off by a dog," he murmured quietly to himself. "Unbelievable."

Alex and Luke arched eyebrows, and asked simultaneously, "Impossible?"

The Doctor suddenly grinned wildly and leapt towards his children. He heaved Alex over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and snagged Luke around the neck in a headlock. They roared with laughter. "Impossible, eh? You two no nothing about impossible."

Alex pounded on his back, demanding to be put down while Luke attempted to wrest out his father's grip in between grins and bouts of laughter. The Doctor jerked his head towards Luke and Alex, indicating them as he asked Rose in a lilting voice, "Want to have a go at them?"

"NO!!!" they replied and simultaneously slipped out of their dad's hands, pouncing on him with a yell. "Yaaahhhh! Get 'im!" The Doctor was pulled to the ground in a tangle of flailing limbs.

Rose decided it was time to intervene, and with yet another chuckle and shake of her head, she hauled the Doctor out of the pile. "All right, enough is enough. Time for bed." She jabbed a finger at the Doctor. "That includes you, too. I'm exhausted, and all I want is a long hot shower and twelve solid hours of sleep."

Realizing it was futile to argue, Alex and Luke said goodnight, exchanged hugs, and slipped off to their respective rooms with final calls of, "Night, Mum." And "Night, Dad."

Now alone, the Doctor and Rose reached for one another and held on tightly until it became impossible to discern who was supporting who, which one was strong right now and which one was weak. They were quiet for several minutes, the song sung between their hearts more than adequate to fill the comfortable silence. After awhile Rose whispered, "Did I forget to mention that I also wanted you?"

She felt his grin against her neck, and he whispered back, "I believe you failed to mention that." He pulled back and looked longingly into her eyes for a moment. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he first allowed himself to openly look at her like that. The passion that ignited them fifteen years ago still burned just as brightly as when it was first lit, maybe even brighter. Lust had come and gone, but the love that spawned it remained deeply ingrained in their hearts. Their lips met each other halfway in a kiss still sweet enough, still tender enough, still loving enough to weaken knees and melt hearts. Fifteen years had done nothing to diminish the love between them, instead it had served to only make it stronger and more resilient against everything that might try to take it away. It was their shield against the universe, but also the source of their power.

As they broke away reluctantly, Rose felt the same power thundering through her veins, infused into her very blood. The Doctor's rapturous smile told her that he felt it too. She kissed him again, lighter than before. She mumbled into his mouth, "Mmmm…I need a shower."

He smiled against her lips and replied teasingly, "I quite agree. You stink."

She scowled good-naturedly and leaned back in his arms. "Thanks for your concern, dear, but you're no spring blossom either."

"The feeling's mutual then. Let's get started." He took her hand with a sly wink and led her out into the hall.

* * *

Much later that night, as the Doctor and Rose were tucked up together like a pair of spoons in bed, Rose awoke from a light doze, edges of sleep fluttering behind her eyes. She smiled lazily as she noticed the Doctor staring intently at her, his gaze soft, chin propped on the palm of his hand and a lecherous smile pulling at the edges of his lips. "Mmm…what're you doing?" she mumbled, still half-buried in the alternate universe of sleep.

He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek and replied, "I'm doing that terribly clichéd thing men do when they're madly in love with a woman."

She rolled over onto his chest – pushing him back onto the bed in the process - rested her chin on her folded hands, and accused, "You, were watching me sleep…"

His grin grew wider as he held up two hands in surrender. "Guilty as charged, though I seem to sense you don't mind being watched. At least not by me." He quirked a suggestive eyebrow at her, and was given a reply in the form of a pillow smothering his face. Rose's musical laughter filled the room as the Doctor turned the tables, throwing the pillow aside and flipping Rose off of him and onto her back. With the same lecherous grin that lit a deep fire in his eyes, he stole a slow, warm kiss. He then tucked himself up behind her – his chest pressing against her back – and secured her to him with one arm tight around her waist. Rose breathed a long, contented sigh and turned deeper into his arms.

For the second time that night, both the Doctor and Rose lapsed into a comfortable silence, a kind of hushing stillness that can only be achieved through time; a quiet that doesn't need to be broken in order to communicate with the other person. With a whisper soft voice, the Doctor broke it with a gentle, "I love you," just before he drifted off to his dreams. Rose smiled, biting her lower lip. It was amazing how those three simple words could _still_ melt her heart. A glimmer caught her eye. From the dim light filtering into the room from the corridor, Rose saw the polished shine of the Doctor's wedding band on his left hand. She reached down and covered his hand with her own and caught a gleam of her own ring. Both had agreed on just plain, simple bands of pure platinum when they got married, more out of necessity than anything else. It's hard to run when you have a diamond the size of an apple hanging off your hand and snagging on everything. Still, even just seeing a glimmer of his ring gave her pleasurable shivers.

Not yet ready to sleep, Rose let her mind drift. A decade and a half had brought her so many things she thought she would never have the chance to have again. The Doctor, children, the TARDIS, traveling the universe, love…so many things that were small miracles in light of all they had been through. A lot had happened to Rose Tyler in thirty-four years, and yet she looked scarcely a year older than they day the she and the Doctor had been reunited. It must be the magical Everlong that now flowed in her veins. She wondered if her outer appearance would ever stop aging, even though the rate at which she was growing older was drastically slowed. Compared to a normal human it was nearly at a stand still. She brushed off the thought. Her future was laid for her below her feet, she would follow whatever path it took.

She carefully turned in the Doctor's arms, as so not to wake him. His eyes – now no longer haunted my memories and nightmares of the past – were shuttered behind eyelids, but just by feeling out with her mind she could tell he was dreaming about her. With a dreamy sigh, she tucked herself into the crook of his arm, laid her head on his shoulder, and drifted into sleep. Rose slid into the Doctor's dream with a practiced ease, replacing the phantom Rose he had been waltzing with. He grinned and commented, "_Ah, much better. There's just no replacing the original._"

She laughed as he turned and swept them over to an open window, the star filled sky shimmering like a deep, dark pool carpeted by diamonds. He carried them up, up, up into the sky, above the clouds, where they played hide-and-seek among the glimmering stars and revolving planets. And all was right in the universe.

* * *

The end? No. This is only the beginning. But the beginning of what is something you'll have to wait to find out. 


End file.
